Cryptic
by Nitroid
Summary: Everyone has different ways of venting while secretly crushing on someone. Grimmjow's just happens to be bullying. AU, Grimmjow/Ichigo.
1. Chapter 1

**Requestfic for Red. Prompt: Grimmjow bullying Ichigo, high school setting, Colonello and Byakuya as teachers.**

**Summary: Everyone has different ways of venting while secretly crushing on someone. Grimmjow's just happens to be bullying. **

x

The teacher scanned the class roster, looking for a good name to call out. Students sank down into their chairs, pressing their faces as close to their textbooks as possible, avoiding all eye contact as they inwardly prayed not to be called on. Some opted for the confused, I-don't-know-the-answer look, others for the look-a-dirty-spot-on-my-textbook, and the rest just sank lower into their chairs and tried to look as small as possible.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

Upon hearing his name being read off the list, Ichigo sagged bonelessly into his seat. His blond haired math teacher raised an eyebrow expectantly and gestured to the black board with one hand.

"I don't bite, despite what the other teachers like to joke about me."

The class had muddled half-laughter, mostly from the relief of not being called on.

Sighing, the orange haired teen dragged himself out of his seat and made his way sluggishly to the front of the class. The calculus question looked tough, he had about zero idea of the topic they were studying, and he was dead tired from looking after his sick younger sister the night before. Yuzu had had high fever and a runny nose, complaining about having nightmares and feeling aches all over her body. Still, she hadn't wanted to trouble her older brother, but Ichigo had insisted. Though he'd taken good care of her throughout the night, he hadn't managed to get a proper hour's sleep before it was time for school.

Standing before the blackboard, he stared at the equations blankly. It stared right back, as if challenging his tired mind to work faster. Stalling for time, Ichigo picked up a pale green chalk and wrote down the formula to answer it. The chalk squeaked as his mind went blank. Which equation was he supposed to integrate first?

"Hurry up, Kurosaki. We only have until the bell rings, _kora_."

"I'm still thinking, sensei."

"You think? Shocker."

Instantly recognizing the owner of the slow, drawling voice, Ichigo gritted his teeth as he scowled at the board. The minutes ticked by as he struggled with the question.

"We're growing old here, Berry."

"Shut it, Jeagerjacques."

"Make me."

Ichigo snarled, but refused to turn around and acknowledge the owner of the mocking tone. Looking at his face would only piss him off further.

"Shut up, or else."

"Ooh, I'm all scared now. Petrified, even. I may wet my pants."

Class 3 – E's math sensei stepped in. "That's enough, Grimmjow. Let Ichigo focus, please. Come on now; let's start with the first step. Equation one first, then equation two . . . and the answer should be in pi. You have your calculator? Good. Remember what I taught you, _kora_."

Ichigo chewed on his lower lip and mulled over his past lessons. His teacher probably meant to be encouraging, but it only made him feel pressured.

"I'm sorry, I don't know."

"Can I have ten minutes of my life back?"

"Grimmjow." Their teacher chided, tossing a small piece of chalk in his blue haired student's direction. "Enough."

"No, seriously, sensei!" Grimmjow argued laughingly. "He's pathetic. Honestly, it'll only take me like five seconds to get the solution. Isn't this the same question you asked us to do last week? It even came out twice in the pop quiz."

True, but it wasn't like he could remember that. Somewhere in the back, Nnoitra whistled a bored tune. Ichigo's face flamed.

"I said shut _up_, Jawfreak. Go have no fun somewhere else."

"Jawfreak, _really_? Is that the best you can come up with?" Grimmjow sneered. "Any place would be more fun than sitting here watching you sweat over one simple question."

"Quiet!" The blond teacher rapped the steel ruler on his somewhat cluttered desk for emphasis. "Enough arguing, _kora_. Now, who can help Ichigo with this question?"

Two hands shot up, one belonging to Ishida, who pushed his glasses up his nose without any airs, and the other to an enthusiastically waving Grimmjow. Ichigo narrowed his eyes and sighed softly, deflated.

"I'm not doing this to help the Berry; I'm doing everyone else a favor!"

Behind Grimmjow's seat, Nnoitra laughed and Yammy guffawed, while Stark heaved a huge yawn. They were always hanging out with Grimmjow, who was notorious for bring an all round bully and general bad boy. Most guys who weren't afraid of him couldn't stand him, and most girls who weren't busy lifting their skirts for him were swooning at his feet. Some girls even got themselves into trouble just so they could spend detention with the Blue Haired Hottie – or so he had been pegged – whenever they got wind that he'd stomped on the school rules again. The only thing that saved Grimmjow from suspension and possible expulsion was his good grades and powers of persuasion with more than half the female teachers in school. Not excluding the school librarian; a pretty young thing fresh out of teachers' college. Ichigo mused over the fleeting possibility of having a smart bully in his class, but being a bully already meant you went wrong somewhere, so he let the thought go.

Grimmjow made sure to bump Ichigo with his shoulder as they passed. The orange haired teen took the jibe silently, jaw clenched as he made his way to his desk near the window. Plopping down into his seat, his face a mixture of frustration and embarrassment, Ichigo rolled his eyes and sagged backward. Never mind being a total jerk wad with an ego the size of a massive gorilla, Grimmjow always made it his role to pick on Ichigo the most all the time. Added to that, Ichigo hated the way Grimmjow acted like a total suck up sometimes. He was in no mood for petty quarrels. He knew he was weak in math, and Grimmjow was a total genius at it, but so what? Everyone had a favorite subject and a least favorite subject. His just happened to be art. Math was just not his forte.

One desk away from him, Tatsuki shot Ichigo a sympathetic look and mouthed 'what an asshole' while jabbing her pen in Grimmjow's direction. Ichigo gave her a crooked smile and a one shoulder shrug. He felt glad he wasn't the only one who thought so.

Fiddling with his mechanic pencil, Ichigo sneakily covered his sketchbook with the slightly bent spirals keeping the paper in place with his math notebook and a plastic folder which housed most of his doodles and scrap pieces of art. The teachers never favored those who doodled in class, because it meant they weren't paying attention, but Colonello-sensei wouldn't mind. Ichigo wondered about his math teacher for a brief moment. His name sounded rather foreign, very much Italian to be exact.

Italian, huh.

Ichigo chewed on his lower lip absently, allowing his mind to wander as he gently tapped his pencil on the edge of his sketchbook. It had been a while since he'd had real spaghetti. And lunch period was taking way too long to arrive; after math he had two full periods of gym, something which he also wasn't very good at. Well, to be honest, excelling in gym wasn't something he had tried . . . yet. Mostly it was just a few rounds of football and then some track running, then hitting the showers before heading to lunch.

This brought him back to the subject of food.

Smirking as he visualized Grimmjow being eaten by a giant spaghetti monster, Ichigo set to sketching the outline of what his imagination allowed him to do. Some darker strokes here, some light shading there, and then coloring in the monster's single eye . . . time passed by quickly without him noticing. Before he knew it, the bell was ringing him out of his daydreams and class 3 – E was quickly being emptied of its students. There were shouts, whoops and whistles from outside in the hallway, and when Ichigo glanced out the window by his seat, his attention was caught by two butterflies chasing each other in mid-air, fluttering about gracefully in the slight breeze that made the willowy trees wave under the morning sun. Twisting the window's slightly rusted handle, Ichigo managed to open it with a soft squeak. He closed his eyes and allowed the wind to push his hair back from his face.

Across the classroom, Grimmjow watched the orange haired teen with a bemused expression on his face. He decided he liked the way those dreamy eyes fluttered shut, and those long eyelashes? Grimmjow felt like kissing them. First the right one, then the left. And maybe kissing Ichigo's nose. Then his lips, and trail his own lips along Ichigo's jaw line.

Mmm.

"Yo!" A hand clapping him on the shoulder brought Grimmjow out of his one-sided staring match. "We got gym right now."

"I know that." Grimmjow muttered, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Ichigo.

Nnoitra gave his shoulder a squeeze and narrowed his eyes. "You been doing okay lately? Got bags under your eyes."

"Everyone has them." Grimmjow replied defensively. "Like you've never stayed up late to play Red Zone? I got to level thirty-five last night."

Shaking his head, Nnoitra clucked his tongue. "Only you'd stay up the whole night knocking away on your joysticks."

"Shut up."

Yammy lumbered over, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Anyone saw my gym shirt? Left it under my desk since last week."

Szayel made a face. "Gross! Don't you ever take your clothes home to wash?"

"Naw."

Behind them, Stark frowned. "Math is over already? What do we have right now?"

Exasperated, his three friends turned around and simultaneously yelled. "Gym!"

Startled by the shouting, Ichigo shot out of his seat, accidentally tipping his table. It rocked from side to side, as if uncertain whether to fall with a bang or stop moving and become obedient once more. Grabbing the table's sides to stop it, Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed his chair back slowly to have more room. Doing so made him hit his elbow against the window sill, and he nudged his table forward with his knee as he hissed with pain. His math notebook clattered to the floor with his folder, sending papers flying everywhere. From the other end of the room, he could hear mocking laughter coming from Nnoitra and Yammy. He turned to give them a seething glare, and caught sight of Grimmjow watching him intently, like he was about to say something. Raising an eyebrow, Ichigo shot him his best sneer and haughtily bent down to retrieve his fallen items.

Grimmjow decided he liked the smooth curves of Ichigo's ass.

"Come on, let's go." Nnoitra slung his backpack over his shoulder, kicking his chair back under his desk. "Hisagi-sensei's gonna freak if we're late again."

Giving Ichigo one last wistful look, Grimmjow left along with his friends.

As they exited the classroom, Ichigo breathed a small sigh. "Good riddance."

x

Where was it?

He riffled through the pockets of his slacks, then his backpack, then his locker.

"Shit." Grimmjow blew out a breath of air in exasperation as he tossed his uniform shirt into his gym locker. It crumpled up and slid to the floor unnoticed, joining a small pile of dog-eared notepaper and Grimmjow's tie. "Where's my wallet?"

Nnoitra looked at him from under his arm, where he was busy taking off his shirt. "You lost it?"

"No. I don't know."

Stark pulled himself up from the locker bench lethargically. "Where'd you put it last?"

Grimmjow snarled in frustration. "If I remembered, I wouldn't be searching for it would I?"

"Calm down." Ulquiorra tilted his head from behind their row of lockers, already fully dressed in gym attire. "Maybe you left it in your class."

Nnoitra nodded as he tied his long hair back into a tight ponytail. "Just change already. I'll help you look after this but we gotta be quick."

The gym teacher rapped on one of the lockers for effect, yelling out his commands. "Hurry up ladies! We're starting out with pushups and some track running!"

Half the locker room groaned. There were some resigned mutters, and more than a few sighs. Yammy slammed his locker door with a little more force than necessary, causing the lockers behind his to rattle and shake dangerously. While the commotion created a certain degree of chaos, Yammy spared Grimmjow a wink before blocking his friend from their gym teacher's vision with his large frame.

"Yammy, what was that?"

"The door didn't like my hand, Hisagi-sensei!"

Wasting no time, Grimmjow flung on his white and red gym shirt before flying out of the locker room with Nnoitra close behind. Stark and Ulquiorra would cover for them. They pounded up the steps to class 3 – E and Grimmjow made a dive for his desk, upturning books and sending some graded test papers to the floor before finally locating his fake leather wallet. He held it up in triumph.

"Got it."

"Jeez." Nnoitra muttered as he helped collect Grimmjow's stuff. "You owe me a soda."

After setting his desk to rights, his friend turned to leave, but Grimmjow lingered behind. "One sec."

He eyed a piece of paper lying on the floor in the middle of the classroom. There was one foot print near the top of it, but otherwise it was unscathed. Something was sketched onto the paper. Grimmjow sauntered over to pick it up.

"What's that?" Nnoitra asked, leaning against the doorway.

"Someone's art."

Nnoitra's cellphone buzzed and he looked around for any passing teachers before surreptitiously sneaking it out of his pocket. "Got a text. It's that girl from the group date last week."

"Mmm." Grimmjow said, distracted by the piece of paper in his hands.

"Said she wants to meet up with me on another group date this weekend. I'm allowed to invite anyone, so I'm thinking you, Stark, Ulqui, Yams, maybe Szayel from Chemistry class? Heard he's good at talking . . ."

Grimmjow tuned Nnoitra's drawling monologue out as he studied the piece of art. The comic face was drawn in a startlingly close replica of his own real one, albeit with a surprised and slightly scared expression as a large monster seemed to grip him in its tight grasp. It looked like it was oozing . . . noodles? Grimmjow squinted and tilted the paper this way and that, but couldn't really make it out. It could be some sort of noodle monster. Either way, it was a pretty good caricature. Impressed though he was, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. It wasn't signed, so he wasn't quite sure who drew it, but he was determined to find out.

x

He was hot and sweaty by the time he arrived in the boys' locker room. The ones who'd finished track running earlier were already coming out of the shower stalls, towels draped precariously around their waists as they chattered and rummaged in their lockers for clothes.

"My shoes stink!" Keigo groaned, fanning the air in front of his nose as he sank onto the locker room bench. "I don't get why. I even tried washing them and all that."

"Use one of those charcoal sticks." Someone suggested. "I hear they absorb odors real quick."

Chad slid into his school slacks and hunted for his towel. "Keigo, that's my deodorant."

"Don't mind me, I'm just borrowing it."

"Without permission?"

"The Great Keigo has no need for permission – gah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . .!"

"Gonna hit the shower." Ichigo said to no one in particular and stuffed his sweat-drenched exercise clothes into his gym bag. "See you guys at lunch."

He eyed the occupied shower stalls and sauntered down to the end ones, hoping to find one empty. All the frosted doors were shut, and he sighed. A door right at the end finally clicked open, and Ichigo hurried toward it so he could call dibs on it. He came face to face with a half naked Grimmjow, with a very short white towel hanging off his waist, collecting the water droplets that fell from the wet ends of his hair to his shoulders, and sliding down his perfectly toned chest as well as travelling over the grooves of his well defined six pack to the slight bits of blue pubes that stuck out over the towel.

A hand tilting his chin upward brought him out of his staring fest.

"Like what you see?" His tone leered, but Grimmjow's eyes looked serious.

Ichigo swallowed, feeling more than a little apprehensive.

"D – Don't touch me."

He'd stammered. Shit.

If Grimmjow noted the tremor in his tone, he didn't show it.

"Are you done?" Ichigo straightened, taking a small step back so he could get out of Grimmjow's reach. He raised an eyebrow toward the empty shower stall behind the blue haired teen expectantly.

"Showering, yes. But I'm not done with you."

Grimmjow swaggered past him after throwing him his trademark smirk – the one that turned girls' knees to jelly – and heading straight for his group of friends converging by their row of lockers. Ichigo stumbled into the shower stall, feeling mixed emotions swirling in his chest as he shut the door with a quiet click. Tossing his towel onto the silver hook, Ichigo gripped his shampoo bottle and gritted his teeth. He twisted the shower handle and allowed the water to crank itself out, cascading over his head and body.

He couldn't seem to get Grimmjow's words out of his mind.

"What the hell did he mean?"

x

If Ichigo could place Grimmjow into a category, he would shove him into the drawer marked 'Predatory'. The 'Asshole' drawer didn't sound so bad either, but he was going for realistic. And Predator Grimmjow on the loose was the best he could get.

It seemed like the blue haired teen was in every class Ichigo took. Advanced Chemistry, where he would sit two rows behind Ichigo with his friend Szayel. English Literature, where they shared a group for discussions. Calculus; thought Ichigo had no idea why Grimmjow didn't opt for Advanced Calc., because it seemed like a class he would fit in squarely. The only class he wasn't in with Ichigo was Art. Ichigo was immensely relieved when he'd checked around on the first day. Turned out Grimmjow and his gang had chosen Music. The orange haired teen couldn't believe his luck. Art was one of his favorite subjects, and without Grimmjow & Co. around to spoil things for him, he found he could enjoy himself in class.

Well, he shared the same art class with Ulquiorra, but he was a general live-and-let-live type of guy, something Ichigo was thankful for. He seemed neutral and polite whenever they became partners for an art project, so Ichigo figured he was alright. It was just Grimmjow he had to look out for.

That is, until his Art teacher delivered the ultimatum one fine Thursday morning.

"Alright everyone!" Ukitake-sensei flipped a lock of long white hair away from his face. "We're doing portraits today, and I'm assigning everyone a partner of their own. However, you can't be drawing each other, so I called the Music class in for this project."

The entire class groaned under the weight of realization.

"Aww, why sensei?" Someone wailed. "Didn't we just do portraits last month?"

"That was for fun! This is the real thing." Their teacher smiled as he handed out a stack of papers to the front row. "It'll count for your finals, so get your act together everyone. There will be three teachers grading you while you complete this assignment. One for expediency and realism, one for protocol, and another for your unique creativity, something I'm sure you all have buried under the layers of pop music and rebellious adolescence."

"Three teachers means three times the pressure." The guy next to Ichigo muttered to his girlfriend. "I don't know why I didn't pick music instead."

Ichigo chewed on his lower lip, mulling over the chances of Grimmjow not attending school today. Maybe, by some miraculous chance given by the gods of mercy, Grimmjow would be absent from Music class today, or maybe get hit by a truck, or flattened like a pancake by a massive bulldozer, or get stuck in a classroom with locked windows and doors. He sighed and nibbled the flaking skin on his bottom lip. These were signs that he was dreading the presence of the biggest bully in his life, but that didn't mean he was a coward who couldn't stand up for himself. If Grimmjow really wanted to duke it out with him, then he was all green light. He'd show the blue haired bastard what he was made of.

"Nervous?" Ukitake-sensei clapped a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, giving him a light, friendly squeeze. "Don't be, Kurosaki-kun. The teachers I've chosen for grading will be fair. It's all about controlling the composition and demonstrating the techniques you've learnt this year."

Ichigo threw his teacher a shy grin. "I'm not worried about that, Ukitake-sensei."

"Pre-exam jitters, then? I know everyone has been stressing out about them, but if you know how to juggle your time between relaxation and studies, everything will work out golden."

Giving his teacher a weak smile and allowing him to assume that was exactly what was on his mind, Ichigo leaned back into his plastic chair and pretended to flip through his notebook. Drawing someone else on an easel was just fine with him when his imagination flowed like liquid gold. He had no idea why he was letting his negativity get the best of him. Karma, karma, it just had to be karma.

The white double doors of their classroom banged open to reveal Yammy, his giant, hulking frame taking up the entire doorway. Ichigo could see more feet behind his, which meant the Music class students were already here. He rubbed one hand over his face, steeling himself and keeping his favorite track on a loop in his mental music box.

"Welcome!" Ukitake-sensei addressed Yammy and the rest of the feet he could see behind the giant. "Come in; please stand at the front of the class so I can assign you to your partners immediately."

"Abarai, Aaroniero."

The guy sitting beside Ichigo shook his head and sighed. "They expect us to draw these idiots? There's nothing artsy about them!"

Ichigo had to agree. There was a splatter of stains from today's lunch all over Yammy's dark jeans, and the glaring red and black checked shirt Nnoitra had on clashed with the fluorescent blue of his skinnies. Not much blending going on there that was easy on the eye.

"Oh god, he's assigning us by alphabetical order?" The girl behind Ichigo said in a stage whisper to her friend. "No way! I hope I get that sexy vocalist Sun-Sun was telling us about."

"No way! That blue haired one? He's hot!" Her friend giggled in the annoying girly way that girls always made a habit of. "What's his name?"

"Grimmjow." Ichigo rolled his eyes as another girl joined them. "He's seriously sexy. I heard he modeled for that famous clothing line Pantera."

"Oh my _god_!" More giggles that spiked a headache somewhere at the back of Ichigo's head, a little to the left. "No way! He's gorgeous."

"Someone switch seats with me." Ichigo looked up to see a guy sitting at the extreme left of the class, over to the front. "Like, somewhere in the middle, cause I can't see the board properly. Long-sighted here."

Ichigo leaped for the chance. "Sure, take my seat."

"Jeagerjacques, Kurosaki."

Ichigo stopped in mid-stride, one hand holding onto his sling bag and box of chalk and charcoal.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

This day could not get any worse.

Grimmjow looked around the class casually until his eyes fell on Ichigo. A slow smirk sculpted his lips as he stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Ichigo ground his teeth, cursing his luck as he made his way to the other desk he'd been exchanged with. His only consolation was that he had a window seat away from the other Art students, which was a great thing if he decided to explode within a five meter radius of Grimmjow. Just being in the same room as the bully made him feel depressed.

Cerulean eyes searched honey brown ones with a mixture of wistfulness and curiosity. Grimmjow was fighting with his instincts, which were telling him to revert back into jerk wad mode and not stare at his crush so much, while his heart was screaming at him to leap forward and grab Ichigo into a mind numbing kiss.

Ichigo had a power over Grimmjow that he didn't even know about.

"Are you as good at Art like you are at Math?" Grimmjow chuckled as Ichigo looked up from his notebook, startled that he'd asked him a question in a civil tone.

Even if his tone seemed social, the words definitely weren't.

Turning away from the guy he hated the most, Ichigo set up his art equipment silently.

"Ah, the old ignoring technique, I see."

Feeling nothing but contempt for the blue haired showoff seated directly across him, Ichigo flipped Grimmjow two choice fingers.

"Why do you insist on making my life hell?"

Blue eyes flashed in frustration for a second before a gleam of mischievousness replaced it.

"Only yours, honey."

Ichigo couldn't resist rolling his eyes. He shared an obvious animosity with the blue haired half-delinquent in his class. or perhaps it was merely one sided, seeing as Grimmjow took great joy in the thrill of humiliating Ichigo to bits. The teen had no idea what to classify Grimmjow as. A delinquent didn't quite fit him, because Grimmjow aced almost every exam subject, he was clean; didn't smoke on school grounds or played truant, and he seemed to keep a healthy friendship with all the teachers. Perhaps charming teachers was the quickest way to get on their good side, but Ichigo was never one to judge based on flimsy gossip passed around by equally flimsy people. A full time suck up probably wasn't quite right either, because he did get his fair share of detention. Half the population of the school's girls seemed to eye Grimmjow like he was a piece of meat, and the guys were either rolling dice to be his friends or staying away from him. To stick him into the popular kid category was an understatement. Grimmjow seemed popular everywhere he went. There seemed to be a lack of labels when it came to Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, though a full time bully seemed to click. The problem was, he was nice to everyone else but Ichigo.

Weird and weirder, but Ichigo didn't have a clue what to do about it.

Grimmjow's voice brought him out of his short reverie.

"So, now that you're gonna be drawing me, I guess I'm at your mercy then?"

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. Never had he felt like wanting to switch partners with someone else this badly. "Depends. Will you stay quiet if I promise not to make you look like the true flawed individual you really are?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Touché."

Ukitake-sensei opened the door again to allow the other teachers access inside. "Okay class, this here's Kyoraku-sensei, Kuchiki-sensei and Urahara-sensei. They'll be hovering over your shoulders for the next few hours while you slog away, caving under the pressure of four pairs of eyeballs plus your partner's . . ."

Immediately on back-to-business mode, Ichigo tuned his teacher out, busying himself by tilting his easel to the right angle and figuring out which way to draw Grimmjow was best.

"And the clock starts . . . now." Ukitake clicked the palm sized, apple shaped timer on his desk. "Two hours for demonstrating art technique, one more for touching up. Begin."

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo with eyebrows raised. He'd noticed the other students already instructing their partners to face whichever way suited them nicely with the light angling down from the ceiling. Ichigo was merely clicking around with his paints set like he wasn't really into it.

"Blue eyes." He heard Ichigo say softly after a minute of silent mulling. "Blue eyes and a tinge of turquoise. Next teal bits for hair, and white for balance."

Grimmjow eyed the other teen, fascinated. He loved the way Ichigo's eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on something; the flowing music of the gentle voice he liked so much.

"Perfect." Ichigo told him quietly, much to his surprise. "Stay like that. I like this pose."

Nodding once, Grimmjow complied, shifting his weight in his chair to get more comfortable. He could handle staring at the orange haired beauty before him openly, this time with a valid excuse.

He watched Ichigo pick up his pencil, and couldn't resist one last joke.

"Do you like the pose, or the poser?"

"Less flirting, more concentrating." Kyoraku-sensei said from behind Ichigo, where he was running one finger up and down the orange haired teen's back.

Ichigo cringed, while Grimmjow narrowed his eyes.

"Less molesting my artist, more grading, sensei."

At Ichigo's blink of surprise, Grimmjow felt his heartbeat quicken. Had Ichigo noticed the possessiveness he'd let slip into his tone?

Kyoraku-sensei held up one finger, which he pointed to Grimmjow, then placed it on his lips with a mock stern look. "Can it, naughty."

Locking eyes with Grimmjow, Ichigo couldn't resist the shy smile spreading across his lips. Grimmjow returned it, but was a little disappointed to see the ghost of a smile fading away as quickly as it had appeared.

Ichigo was so beautiful.

Too bad he was just out of reach.

x

**Cryptic might be quite a long story, depending on how far I can stretch out the love-hate tension between Grimmjow and Ichigo. That said, please feel free to review!**** I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for typos and grammar errors. Word mixes up stuff so easily and I've never had beta help before . . . it's probably time for me to get a beta.**

x

"Wow, so you really got paired with him?" Keigo said around a mouthful of blueberry cream croissant. "That really sucks."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I can change partners anymore. We're gonna be doing a full body design, so I'll have to get Grimmjow to pose for me while I draw him."

"Naked?" Keigo asked, and received a few wadded up wrappers thrown his way. "That's not a bad idea. Wonder how much a girl would pay for me to draw her naked."

Chad chuckled. "You'll probably be the one paying her."

"Psh, I could do that with my charm alone."

Mizuiro burst out laughing, as did Ichigo. They joked around for a bit more before their laughter died down into pleasant chuckling. Even for a little while, Ichigo felt glad he could relax and live in the now with the friends he knew would have his back anywhere and anytime.

"So you're still stuck with him, then?" Ishida asked as he squinted at Ichigo from behind the steel framed glasses he always wore.

"Guess so."

"Watch out for Grimmjow, Ichigo." Chad said quietly. "Heard he's in with some bad sort."

Mizuiro perked up, his curiosity piqued. "Gangs?"

"Could be."

"Wouldn't be surprised."

Ichigo heaved a sigh as he leaned over to swipe a sip of soymilk from Mizuiro's carton. He dodged a playful slap before leaning backward against Chad's broad, muscular back, using his friend as a backrest.

"In the 1940s, the average farmer only grew enough foodstuffs for about twenty to twenty five people." Ishida muttered from his upright position beside Ichigo. "Calculate the probability distribution for each household if the average number of family members is 4.5."

Keigo curled his upper lip and crumpled his food wrapper before tossing it directly into Ishida's face, where it bounced off his forehead and left a streak of blueberry cream. "It's lunch period, Uryuu. That means no talking about anything related to studies or assignments. I just might puke all over your notes."

Pushing his glasses up his nose, Ishida politely declined Mizuiro's offer of lending him a handkerchief before pulling out his own white lacy one with an embroidered logo of his favourite rock band, Quincy. Ichigo kind of liked them because their tracks were smooth and classic, but Ishida took hardcore fan to a whole new level. He would have sewn the Quincy band logo on his uniform shirt had the teachers not reprimanded him, but Ichigo secretly admired Ishida for his serious dedication and flawless craft making. Ishida could sew anything and everything.

"Let him do what he likes, Keigo." Mizuiro pinched two bites off Keigo's chicken and cheese sandwich with the stealth of a skilled ninja. "How would you like it if I told you to stop eating so much?"

Ichigo snickered. "Look who's talking."

"I happen to like bread." Mizuiro frowned at him disapprovingly, the first half of Keigo's tuna roll disappearing into his mouth. Ichigo knew Keigo would never see it again.

The bell rang, the shrill sound piercing through the rooftop area like there were about a dozen instead of just one. Ichigo clapped his hands over his ears and blinked.

"Fucking bell." Keigo muttered, trashing his food wrappers into the nearest bin. "They don't even need one for the rooftop."

"It's new." Mizuiro hopped to his feet, keeping one hand on his backpack while holding out the other to help Ishida up. "I bet the principal wanted to keep most of us from sleeping up here. It's a really good place to sneak out to when skipping class."

"You skip class?" Ichigo asked incredulously, using Chad's shoulder as a balance so he could lift one foot and scratch his ankle.

Mizuiro stuck out his tongue and waggled a watermelon lollipop in Ichigo's face. "Despite what others say, I'm quite a normal student."

"Lies!" Keigo hollered from the doorway of the rooftop, the one that led to the stairs. "Hurry up before my arm dies on me. This door is heavy."

"Let Chad hold it then."

"What do you think he is, some sort of doorman?"

"Only for the rooftop, dummy."

"Who're you calling dumb?"

"Toads have no teeth."

"What the fuck was that about, Ishida?"

Laughing, they barrelled down the stairs to join the seething multitude of students headed straight for class.

x

"Buenos Aires, Los Angeles, Cape Town, and Sydney are each thousands of miles apart and are known for having unusually pleasant year-round climates. They are all almost _identical_distances from the Equator." Byakuya-sensei read out from his teacher's edition textbook. "Write that down and leave two spaces for extra notes."

While his teacher went on to repeat the sentence, Ichigo doodled a human being chased by a three-legged dinosaur with snakes for a tongue. The rest of the class made quiet clicks with their mechanic pencils and pens, with the occasional shake of a liquid corrector or the squeak of a chair on the pale blue tiled classroom floor.

A wadded up ball of notepaper found its way to the back of Ichigo's head, where it bounced off and rolled to Keigo's desk on the tiles. Peeking at his teacher to see if he would notice, Ichigo ducked down and snatched it up with one swift move.

Opening it up and smoothing the creases out, Ichigo squinted to read the lazily scrawled writing.

_Left side of your head, your hair's sticking up. _

And somewhere at the end, in a different colored pen;

_It's kinda cute._

Ichigo puffed up one side of his cheek before exhaling through his mouth. There was no signature or name written on the paper, so he could only guess who it was sent by. Turning around slightly in his chair, Ichigo instantly locked gazes with mischievous blue orbs. Grimmjow winked at him as he grinned, sending a flush of crimson across Ichigo's cheeks. The orange haired teen hated the fact that he blushed so easily.

Grimmjow held up a hand before furiously scribbling something down on a notepad with his pen. He held it up and threw another roguish grin Ichigo's way.

_Just like that blush._

Jaw dropping open as another flush of pink colored his cheeks, Ichigo struggled to come up with a witty comeback. Words failed him as he tried to wrap his mind around the double meaning Grimmjow could have implied, hidden between the lines of writing on the paper. He knew Grimmjow was just baiting him – even if this was a new breed of tactic, but he couldn't help raising his hackles whenever the blue haired teen taunted him. It was a game of lion and cheetah, though Ichigo always felt like a cornered mouse.

"About ninety percent of the world's population lives in the Northern Hemisphere, and Kurosaki Ichigo, please face the front when I'm talking." Byakuya-sensei's aim was accurate.

The small piece of green chalk bounced off Ichigo's temple and plonked away onto the floor. Ichigo jumped and faced the blackboard with flaming cheeks and a bruised ego.

Twenty minutes later into Geography, a paper plane nosed its way past Ichigo's face and made a perfect landing on his desk. Frowning and dreading more mockery, Ichigo crushed the plane and deliberately let it fall to the floor from his fist. The lesson went on with a slice of boredom wedged into it, except when Renji's smart phone blared his favourite song, making everyone jump in surprise.

"What was that?"

"My phone, sensei."

"No, it sounded like a radio . . ."

Tatsuki shook her head. "Sensei, you're outdated."

"Oh. Sorry."

The class laughed. Byakuya-sensei was just too awkward with his students, especially when it came to confiscating gadgets.

"Give it here, Abarai."

"Aww, sensei!"

"No talking back."

"But it wasn't my fault it rang."

Byakuya-sensei pushed a lock of jet black hair away from his eyes, looking thoughtful. "Oh. Well, I suppose that's right."

Renji adopted an earnest look and gave his teacher a beam of happiness. "So you won't take it away, right?"

"No, but I need to give you some form of punishment."

"Like cleaning the blackboard? I hate cleaning the blackboard." Renji said with a grin.

Their teacher looked torn between stern and relieved. "Right then. Please clean the blackboard after class, Abarai."

Renji pumped a fist and did a victory dance in his seat. "Alright! No take backs, sensei!"

Ichigo chuckled at his redheaded classmate's boldness. Teasing their Geography teacher was fun.

Another paper plane whisked past his shoulder to make a crash landing on top of his notes. Ichigo ground his teeth and looked up at Byakuya-sensei before grabbing the paper and reading its contents.

_Too bad your cuteness didn't work on sensei._

Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo was about to crumple the paper and shove it into his desk when he caught sight of more writing at the bottom of the page.

_It would've worked on me._

Right.

Did that mean what he thought it meant?

Ichigo bit his lower lip, a dozen questions running through his mind. Still, this was Grimmjow here. His words could mean anything from I'm just messing with your head to I'm dead serious and you're about to be the butt of a joke in five seconds. Ichigo had no qualms that Grimmjow probably wanted to rile him up as per usual. Running a hand through his spiky hair, Ichigo folded the paper and tucked it away in between the folds of his textbook. He wasn't going to respond to any note passing, because it was cliché and silly and more of something girls did, usually. Especially when they wanted to ask the guy they liked out.

Unless of course, Grimmjow liked passing notes for that very reason. Ichigo smirked to himself as he digested that thought, allowing his imagination free reign. Yeah right, like Grimmjow would fall for someone like him. He probably saw Ichigo as some sort of entertainment source, judging by the way he tended to pick on him. Chewing on his bottom lip, Ichigo felt his imagination take a steep turn, flashing him a fuzzy visual of himself being kissed by the blue haired bully.

_Ugh! _

Why'd he have to think about that for?

Ears pink with embarrassment and cursing his imagination; Ichigo fumbled with his mechanic pencil and quickly sketched a hapless guy with flailing arms, trying to escape from being swallowed by an enormous shag carpet. He grinned, letting his creativity flow from his mind to his fingers, guiding the pencil with the right amount of strokes and filling in some lines with shading. Beside the hungry carpet sat a concerned looking cat with peacock feathers in its tail.

Lost in his own world, Ichigo hummed softly while his hand made quick work of his doodling. He barely noticed how quiet the class had gotten, each student bent low over their assignments as their teacher made rounds. A slender, well manicured hand reached under Ichigo's textbook, flicking it out and upward. Honey brown eyes widened in surprise and instant shame as steel gray ones stared back.

"Drawing again, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo flushed and nodded silently, avoiding his teacher's gaze by looking at his table.

"Are you aware what class this is?"

"Geography, Byakuya-sensei." Ichigo heard himself reply in a pathetically small voice. "I'm sorry."

"Well, you're . . ."

The class could practically hear the cogs turning in their teacher's mind as he wondered what sort of punishment to give Ichigo. Byakuya-sensei just wasn't very good at handling things like these.

"He's really good, isn't he, sensei?" An all too familiar voice spoke up from the back. "He doesn't even need to take Art lessons."

Byakuya-sensei blinked once before nodding slowly, his mind already distracted. "Yes, he's very good. Is this man being eaten by a piece of cloth?"

Ichigo felt his cheeks burn. "I-It's a carpet."

His teacher raised both eyebrows. "Well . . . it certainly looks famished."

The class broke out in a smattering of giggles. Ichigo ducked his head as his textbook was placed back onto his desk. Byakuya-sensei gave him a light pat on the head – like he was a little boy – and sauntered away to prod Keigo awake four desks away.

Barely five minutes later, Nnoitra leaned over from behind Ichigo's seat. He tapped the orange haired teen on the shoulder and passed him a clumsily folded piece of heart-shaped paper. Brows furrowing in puzzlement, Ichigo scanned the contents.

_What, no thank you for saving my ass, Grimmjow, I'm indebted to you for life?_

Feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, Ichigo scribbled a reply using his favourite green ink pen.

_You were just lucky sensei is so easily distracted._

He handed the note back to Nnoitra, who winked at him before passing it back to Grimmjow. Seconds later, the bell rang, signalling the end of regular classes and the start of break before extracurricular activities. Ichigo shoved his stuff into his backpack and waited for the class monitor to give the customary 'thank you, sensei'. He didn't feel like walking with Grimmjow, though the blue haired teen was his Art partner; he'd had enough teasing for the day. Taking a brisk walk out of the classroom, Ichigo lost himself into the sea of students, all chattering and laughing and joking around. He wandered to the stairs that would lead to Block E, where the main art room was located.

"Ichigo!" Keigo yelled from the door of the class he'd just left. "Wanna come with us to eat at Adzuki?"

Adzuki was a famous fast food diner in town, just three and a half blocks to the East from Karakura High. Around this time in the afternoon, it would be chock full of students and working adults alike. Ichigo didn't think he could handle the crowds.

"I'll pass, thanks." He grinned apologetically as Keigo pouted. "Maybe next week!"

"You know where to find us if you change your mind!" Mizuiro called after him and Ichigo waved back in response.

Humming to himself, Ichigo walked along the corridors, skipping the stairs three steps at a time. The afternoon was beautiful, and he'd never felt this happy to hear the birds singing away in the trees. Heading into the stairwell of Block E, he brushed past a gang of students who were talking loudly, swaggering along with their hands in their pockets. Their usual gray and white uniforms were decorated with gaudy looking wallet chains and nearly all of them had substituted the school's standard inner white T-shirt for grunge themed ones. Several had lifted their uniform shirt collars, giving them the infamous rebellious teenager look.

Three of them suddenly shoved him in the chest, making him stumble backwards into another of their gang.

"Fucker!" said one of them, turning around with a murderous glare. "Watch where you're going!"

Annoyed, Ichigo frowned. "You're the one who pushed –!"

The orange haired teen barely had time to finish his sentence when he felt a fist hit him right in the gut. Doubling over, Ichigo would have dropped to the ground had the delinquents not yanked him up by his upper arms. Another fist would have collided with his nose had not one of the gang members grabbed the arm of his assailant.

"Dude, check this guy out." One of them said in a deep voice. "Leave him for the Boss."

He was basically bald, with about one centimetre of hair shaved close to his head. There was a large black and red tattoo on the back of his neck, and there was more than a day's stubble left unshaved on his chin. Ichigo was sure he wasn't even a teenager anymore; more of a student who failed to graduate even in his early twenties.

"Pretty face." Another leered, while the rest snickered and hooted.

Ichigo felt like he could go blind from the glaring purple and blond bad dye job sitting on the top of the thug's head.

"Got any money?" The bald one named Boss said right in Ichigo's face, causing the teen to cough from the stench of his horribly bad breath.

"Ever heard of brushing your teeth?" Ichigo said through gritted teeth.

Two guys held his arms up behind his head so he couldn't struggle or fight back. The one who gripped his left arm in an iron-like hold was hurting Ichigo; he was pretty sure that would leave a bruise.

"Heard of it, too lazy to do it." Baldo leered as he searched Ichigo's pockets. "Sides, my teeth are _my_ business, Orange."

The other six gang members sneered, doing their best impersonation of badass and gangster-like. To Ichigo, they merely looked like malnourished chimps as they dangled their arms and stuck out their necks.

"So what class did you say you were in again?" Baldo grinned, roughly pulling out the tiny silver pendant attached to the plain black necklace Ichigo always wore from under his shirt.

"I never did." Ichigo felt like kneeing Baldo in the groin, but the thug was squatting conveniently away from the vicinity of his knee.

"Search his backpack." With an easy flick of the wrist, Baldo yanked the necklace off Ichigo's neck. "Any money, take it."

Ichigo grinned through the ache of his winded stomach. "You won't find much."

They ignored him, riffling through the loose sheaf of notepaper, messing up the carefully placed sketches in his cracked folder. Even going as far as to upturn his bag and let his belongings topple onto the floor with a loud clatter. Ichigo was only worried for his body paint set, which was new and bought with his hard earned money. He bit his lower lip as it cracked open on the cement floor, the round wells of paint scattering everywhere, just like the loose sketches from his folder.

"You guys get off on doing this to innocent people?" He was angry now, the words flying off the tip of his tongue as he struggled against the two guys holding him in a vice like grasp. "Goddamn assholes."

"Shut it." Baldo didn't even bother looking at him. "Look through that wallet over there."

One gang member complied obediently, making a face as he withdrew a few dollar notes and a couple coins. "Nothing good here, Boss."

"Shouldn't you be hanging out in some ratty snooker club, picking your noses and smoking cheap cigarettes?" Ichigo hissed and spat, much like an indignant cat. "Like the true ass wipes you guys really are."

A fist collided with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards into a wall as the two thugs purposely let go of his arms.

"You know who I am?" Baldo snarled, swaggering up to where Ichigo sat slumped against the wall, trying to recover from the hard thumping his head had taken.

One delinquent's ugly sneakered foot kicked Ichigo in the chest and stayed, keeping him in place.

"Nope." Ichigo grinned, tasting blood in his mouth. "You're just not worth knowing, I guess."

Baldo looked enraged, while the other embers whooped and hooted.

"You're fucking dead, Orange."

"Big talk for someone so worthless."

Ichigo wrenched his arms with surprising speed and enough force to make the two guys gripping his arms stumble to the tiled floor. In a flash, his foot shot out to trip Baldo over, bringing the thug down to his knees with a thump and a muttered curse about how that was going to bruise. Swinging his right arm, Ichigo gave him the hardest punch he could muster. His fist made a cracking sound wit Baldo's nose upon impact, successfully giving the thug a nosebleed. About to reward Baldo with a good, hard kick, Ichigo felt his arms being grabbed, and someone elbowed him on his head, making him see stars.

"Fucker!" Baldo was getting to his feet with the help of three gang members. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you cocksucking bastard!"

Struggling against his assailant's loyal followers, Ichigo tried to get out of their hold before he faced Baldo's true wrath, but his efforts were fruitless. With three guys holding him down now, and another moving to grip his ankles, he was stuck.

Ichigo glanced around the deserted hallway, but there weren't any students or teachers making their way to the Art room yet. Besides, Block E was the last building situated right at the end of the school compound. No one but the Art students would go there. Just his luck to feel like heading to extra class early.

Baldo was raising his left leg, probably about to kick Ichigo in the face. He leaned in close with his mouth pursed, as if her were about to spit. Expecting gross saliva on his face, Ichigo cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yo, Amagawa."

Nothing came.

Ichigo blinked his eyes open at the sound of a crushed aluminium can smacking Baldo somewhere on the head. It ricocheted off his hard skull with a sharp clunk. Everyone's attention was drawn to the students on the stairwell.

Grimmjow stood at the top of the last flight of stairs, looking more than a little pissed. Nnoitra, Stark and Yammy stood behind him. Ichigo caught a glimpse of Szayel's shocking pink hair somewhere behind Nnoitra's backpack. God, the day could _not_ get any worse.

"Jeagerjacques." Baldo said with narrowed eyes. "Ain't got no bone to pick with you. What're you doin' on my turf?"

"School's school property, Amagawa. Nobody owns it." Grimmjow smirked. "You're trying to suck face with my artist, there."

"Your artist?" Baldo – or Amagawa – made a face like a suffocating goldfish. "So he's one of your . . ."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as Baldo waggled two fingers in quick succession. What was the idiot gesturing about?

"That's exactly right." Grimmjow gave him a big grin. "Now hand what's mine over here."

"What if I say I don't wanna?" Amagawa snickered.

Nnoitra sauntered down from the stairwell, headed straight for Baldo. In a flash, his foot hit the sneering thug right in the stomach, successfully winding him while sending him straight into three of his gang members.

"Little fish should just be eaten." Nnoitra said eerily, licking the top row of his teeth with a scary smile.

"Next time you touch one hair on him, Amagawa . . ." Grimmjow paused to let his words sink in before he flicked a red penknife into the corkboard pinned to the wall just above Baldo's head.

The knife stayed embedded in the peeling brown slat, the blade an inch or more deep.

The thugs took the message and turned tail, fleeing the scene like a bunch of whipped puppies.

"Right." Nnoitra stretched and yawned. "Anyone want a soda?"

"Nnoitra's treating!" Stark chuckled as he hopped down to pick up Ichigo's backpack, helpfully setting it to rights from the thug's ransacking. "Wow. Check this out, guys."

"Nice art." Yammy boomed as he peered over the sleepy-eyed brunette's shoulder. "He's real good."

Grimmjow made his way over to Ichigo, getting down on one knee and reaching out to grasp his shoulders. "You alright?"

Szayel leaned down, holding out a handkerchief dampened with water from his bottle. "Here, wipe the blood away."

"C'mere." Grimmjow sat down Indian style, pulling Ichigo toward him. "You're okay now. Those idiots won't touch you anymore, I guarantee it."

Ichigo watched Grimmjow with a mixture of confusion and distrust. He had no idea why the biggest bully in his life would help him – unless he wanted to use this as leverage for more teasing. Trying to push Grimmjow's hands away, Ichigo avoided the worried blue eyed gaze, feeling a light blush dust his cheeks. He felt embarrassed and kind of intimidated.

"Hey." Grimmjow reached out to tilt his chin gently. "What did they do to you?"

Jerking away, Ichigo muttered. "Like you care."

Szayel tactfully left them to talk and sidled over to peek under Nnoitra's arm at some of Ichigo's sketches. Grimmjow sighed and turned away, rummaging in his backpack. He retrieved a chilled juice box, which he handed to Ichigo with a smile.

"Drink this."

When Ichigo didn't move to take the carton, Grimmjow grasped his hand gently and placed it in his hold.

"I know it's your favourite."

Passion fruit juice was one of Ichigo's favourite drinks, but he had no idea how Grimmjow knew that. It just felt weird to him, but he was in no mood to complain. He'd skipped going out to Adzuki for a snack or two, and now he was kind of hungry. Juice wasn't a very good compensation, but it was close enough. He could deal.

"Thank you." Ichigo offered his saviour a smile, then winced as he moved his back a little.

A sharp pain spiked through his veins as he stretched his back. The back of his head throbbed; a little sore from when he'd hit the wall, but it was just a dull ache and it would go away soon. Ichigo was far more worried about his back.

"Aww, this is broken." Nnoitra said as he helped pick up all the bits of Ichigo's paint set. "I wanna see if I can fix it though."

"Naw, you can't." Yammy shook his head. "The cover's all cracked and stuff."

"Let him do it; he's good with his hands." Szayel said as he stacked some paper back into Ichigo's folder.

"Yeah, thanks for that visual, Szayel. I really needed it." Stark smirked as the pink haired teen blushed, rolling his eyes.

"Don't even go there!" Yammy groaned, while Nnoitra prodded him in the side.

Despite himself, Ichigo had to smile at them. They were so comfortable together; he couldn't help wondering why he wasn't friends with them. Well, aside from the teasing they gave him, but he could look past that.

"Art class is gonna start soon." Nnoitra said pointedly. "That means the other kids are gonna be coming through here with teachers. About time we made a move on."

Grimmjow reached under Ichigo's arm, giving him a gentle pull so he could help him stand. "Come on."

"I can walk on my own." Ichigo said, pulling his arm back.

Grimmjow sighed and stood up with a small frown marring his handsome features. He was torn between wondering if Ichigo was trying to get him to leave because he wasn't used to such kind attention coming from someone who made his life a teasing torment or because he was embarrassed and didn't wish to be rescued like a damsel in distress.

"No you can't." Szayel said firmly, walking over and sliding Ichigo's arm over his shoulder. "Your back hurts, doesn't it?"

Ichigo's face flushed, and he bit on his lower lip unconsciously, a habit he had never really gotten rid of. The tender skin cracked and blood seeped out once more. Grimmjow shook his head at Szayel, grasping Ichigo by the arm. In a flash, he had slipped his other arm under Ichigo's legs and lifted him up princess style. Nnoitra cheered as the orange haired teen protested.

"I'm taking Ichigo to the infirmary." Grimmjow said. "Bring his bag to class and cover for us. We're coming back."

Surprised, embarrassed, flustered and panicking all at once, Ichigo could do nothing but grab at Grimmjow's shirt as he was carried up the stairs, away from the safe vicinity of the Art room, and out of Block E.

"Do you want me to use the way through the courtyard or the back corridors?" Grimmjow asked with a serious look on his face.

Ichigo tried not to bite his lower lip again. "What's the difference?"

"Well, you'll meet a whole lot more people through the courtyard." Smirking down at him, Grimmjow chuckled as Ichigo gave him an alarmed look. "Alright, courtyard it is."

"N – No!" Ichigo stammered, grasping the folds of Grimmjow's white uniform shirt. "Don't!"

Grimmjow gave him a huge grin. "You're so easy to mess with."

"Just put me down!"

"Not a chance."

He tried to refrain from kissing the pout away from Ichigo's mouth as the orange haired teen relaxed his frenzied grip on his uniform shirt, pulling away with a soft sigh.

"Is it that fun to tease me?" Ichigo murmured, rubbing at a bruise on his jaw.

"Yes and no."

"Why?"

"Because you're cute."

What was he supposed to answer to that? Ichigo watched Grimmjow carefully, feeling the animosity for the other teen slip away with each step closer to the school infirmary. Though quiet, his mind was awhirl with a dozen or more thoughts. The sudden change in Grimmjow's behaviour was fairly puzzling, and the gentle way he was treating Ichigo was a matter of pure bafflement.

They reached the white double doors and Grimmjow shifted Ichigo's weight in his arms. "Give it a knock, will you?"

Ichigo complied. "Could you put me down now?"

"Nope."

Sighing, the orange haired teen consoled himself that at least no other student had seen them. At least, he hoped not. Classes were over and most of the school's occupants were either hanging out in the cafeteria or heading out to the rows of shops to spend their allowance on junk and treats.

"Sensei?" Grimmjow called out. "There's an injured student here."

There was no response; a hurriedly scrawled note on the school doctor's table read: "Went to the national hospital for an hour. See teacher on duty if emergency." Grimmjow heaved a sigh, while Ichigo chewed on his lower lip, oblivious to the thin trickle of blood dribbling down his chin.

"Stop that." Grimmjow chided, setting him down on the nearest cot.

The springs creaked and the wheels of the foldable bed squeaked as Ichigo made himself comfortable on the mattress. He licked at the blood on his lip, wincing as his saliva stung his open wound a little bit before fading away.

"Here." Grimmjow carried a white metal box with a Red Cross sign on its cover. "Show me all your cuts and scrapes."

"I'm not five." Ichigo frowned, taking the box from Grimmjow. "Thanks, but I think I can treat myself."

Sighing, Grimmjow dragged a stool over to sit by the bed and watched Ichigo clumsily swab a scrape on his right elbow with his left hand. He bit his tongue and decided not to jibe the orange haired teen about it for fear of getting a thorough tongue lashing. Ichigo already disliked him enough as it was.

"So, about the Art project . . ."

"What about it?" Ichigo was snappish, clearly not in the mood for idle chatter.

"Just wondering if Kyoraku-sensei has a crush on you."

A blush raged across Ichigo's cheeks like someone had mixed red and white and pink paint with water, then splashing it over his face.

"Wow, even your ears are pink."

"S-Stop kidding!" Ichigo brushed Grimmjow's hand aside as he tried to help him fit the bandage over his wound. "It's not like I asked you to do this; I don't want your help. I could've fought Baldy all by myself if I had the chance. You didn't need to poke your nose where it doesn't belong."

Grimmjow grinned. "You get pretty mean when you're defensive."

Ichigo caught himself before he spewed another biting retort. Grimmjow _had_ helped him, and saved him too, literally. He was being a total dick about it.

"Sorry." Ichigo held Grimmjow's gaze for a few seconds before looking away. "I was just . . . upset. Thank you. Very much."

"It's cool. Don't worry about it."

Yeah, but he couldn't help but _be_ worried about it.

"I really am grateful." Ichigo said softly, letting Grimmjow slip a new piece of bandage over the scratch on the side of his hand. "I'll treat you after this, anything you want."

"No, really." Grimmjow laughed. "It's fine. Don't force yourself. You hate me, remember?"

Oh.

He hadn't meant to let that slip out, but now that it had, he couldn't drag it out of Ichigo's ears and stuff them back into his mouth. He hadn't meant it like that; now Ichigo was going to feel obliged to treat him.

"Please." Ichigo shook his head. "Let me get back some of my dignity."

Hmm.

This was sudden, but he couldn't refuse. Ichigo could take back his words, either.

"Okay. If you insist."

Compared to how he did everything in jest, Grimmjow figured Ichigo's seriousness was pretty admirable. Still, he wasn't about to pass up on a date with the most gorgeous boy in his class just like that. There were so many things he could say offhand about what he knew from the way Ichigo acted during school hours, but outside of that – Grimmjow had no clue about Ichigo's own personal life. His memories, his childhood, his close friends, maybe he even had a girlfriend on the side, probably some pretty chick from another school with dyed hair and rosebud lips, all soft and clingy when she was with Ichigo, surgically attached to his arm.

No.

He didn't want to think about that. It made him insanely jealous.

The school bell rang, signalling the start of extra classes, but they both decided just to skip Art anyway. Ichigo couldn't go in and continue class like normal with bandages and plasters all over him. Ukitake-sensei was sure to do some questioning.

"Where do we go now?" Ichigo asked quietly as Grimmjow shoved the first-aid kit into the glass shelf marked 'Do Not Lock' in bold black letters. "I don't think we can stay here."

"School guards won't let us out at this time now." Grimmjow turned around to face Ichigo, pushing his hands into his pockets. "They'll file a truant report; next thing you know we're doing detention for three weeks straight."

"You sound very experienced in that matter." Ichigo stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his light gray uniform slacks.

Grimmjow shrugged. "Yeah. I get detention a lot. Wanna head out somewhere?"

"Um, but we left our bags with Nnoitra."

"Then let's go meet them when class ends. I know this great place we can hang out without being noticed."

Heading toward the door, Grimmjow turned around and held out a hand. "Coming?"

Ichigo hesitated for a fraction of a second, a dozen thoughts chorusing nay, but a hundred more saying yes. Despite his feelings, his instincts told him to reach out and place his smaller hand in Grimmjow's.

"Let's go."

It felt good to hold his hand.

x

**It's not moving quickly. There's going to be ups and downs, because I don't plan to let their relationship go smoothly. Haha, I sound like an angry ex. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I didn't know Cryptic would get such great responses. :D Thanks for the support, everyone.**

**Also I have no clue who this Amagawa dude is. He's not a Bleach character; I just made him up, and took away all the hair on his head. Poor guy. I'm about to abuse him a lot. Hope he's prepared.**

x

The loud beeping of the alarm sent Ichigo rolling out of his bed onto the cold floor, half tangled in his blankets. The teen groaned and felt around on his bedside table to switch off the loud noise. 6:30 in the morning and he was feeling way too sore to even make it to the bathroom on his own.

What the hell had he done to himself yesterday?

Oh right, he'd gotten himself into a fight with Amagawa, the school's resident bald bully – complete with an ugly gang tattoo on the back of his head. Grimmjow had saved him yesterday, which had been insanely unusual and kind of scary. Considering the fact that he hadn't gotten a broken nose or a black eye, Ichigo figured he couldn't complain. Grimmjow had been pretty nice to him during the time he'd needed some medical help on his cuts and scrapes, and ice for his bruises. He'd even been kind enough to take him to the rooftop to hang out so he could avoid Ukitake-sensei's questions about his bandages and battered clothes. They'd hung out and talked and Ichigo's view of the blue haired teen had changed considerably since then.

Well, he still had his doubts, but they were being tamped down with this new feeling of kinship.

Ichigo stood up slowly, feeling his bones creak and complain with every movement he made. As he staggered to his feet, he stretched out with a yawn that stopped mid-way before letting out a hoarse scream.

His back throbbed painfully, a sore reminder that he'd been beaten up the day before. Ichigo reached back with one hand and gingerly felt the area of his lower back. The skin was raised and slightly puffy, which meant there was probably a bruise or something there. Lifting up the black singlet he was wearing, Ichigo limped his way to the full-length mirror beside his closet. What he saw in the reflection sent a sinking feeling of dread pooling in his stomach.

A giant, ugly bruise in a reddish purple shade was blooming on his back, making him look like something was growing beneath his skin. It was horrible, like something about to pop out and attack the smooth glass of the mirror. Ichigo moaned softly, fingers lightly ghosting over his painful contusion. How he'd managed to sleep on his back without feeling the pain was a mystery. Must have been the painkillers. For a moment, the teen contemplated skipping school for the day, maybe call in sick or something to give his bruise some time to heal. There was gym period everyday; surely undressing before the rest of his friends would shock them. He wasn't up to answering questions at the moment.

No.

He would man up and go to school, because skipping one day would mean having cold feet, and Ichigo didn't want to let Amagawa know he'd won.

Well, easier said than done.

Ichigo found himself struggling to slide his school uniform on, and even simple things like shrugging on his backpack sent dull aches zinging up and down his torso. Just how hard had he been thrown against that wall, anyway? Ichigo chewed on his lower lip, not caring that the newly healed skin was now cracked and bleeding. He licked the blood away and sighed. At least his bones weren't broken. Though if they were, he would definitely fuck Amagawa up for it.

Slipping his stockinged feet into his school shoes, Ichigo barrelled down the stairs, valiantly ignoring the pain throbbing up and down his upper body. He stopped at the dining table, looking around for a piece of toast amid a pile of magazines Karin had set up around numerous plates and three jars of jam.

"I made Bombay bread!" Yuzu piped up from her usual place at the stove, where she stood stirring something that smelled positively heavenly in a big pot. "Eat as much as you like."

Ichigo managed a happy grin as he bit into two slices of his sister's daily masterpiece. He could always count on Yuzu to whip up delicious edibles whenever. She was a great cook – even better than their mother, who had long since passed.

Dropping her a compliment, Ichigo grabbed a bottle of chilled chocolate milk from the fridge and walked out through the back door, waving goodbye to his sisters, who were now bickering over the space on the table. He managed to walk out a few metres away from his home, until his shoulders sagged and his breathing grew slightly laboured.

He wasn't going to deny it; his back hurt like a bitch. The healing processes always did. But he was strong and wasn't about to show his sisters how much pain he was going through.

"You look worried about something."

Ichigo jumped, startled. He hadn't noticed anyone following him, and the sharp, quick movement made his body thump with pain.

He winced, trying to shrug it off like it was nothing by running a hand slowly through his hair. The truth was, every movement his arms made hurt, too. So much for acting.

"Yeah, just all this homework that's been piling up." Ichigo gave Ishida a tight smile. "And I've got that art project to finish up, too. Can't say how long it'll take me to just finish the rough draft from the first three ideas alone."

Dark eyes watched him as Ishida adjusted the books in his arms. "Sounds like you've bitten off more than you can handle."

Wow.

Pretty close to the mark.

Ichigo averted his gaze, making sure to keep his facial expression wiped blank and passive. "I guess you could say that."

"Did something happen?"

Ah, the inevitable question. Glaring at the rough, loose pebbles on the tarred road, Ichigo fought not to laugh like a hyena lest his friend think he lost a wingnut.

"Ichigo?" Ishida touched his friend on the shoulder, then gave him what he hoped would suffice for a reassuring squeeze. "I think you're a little overwhelmed."

Ichigo yelped, groaned, and sunk down to his knees with a pained grunt.

"Okay, way too overwhelmed."

x

"Alright, so let me get this straight." Nnoitra grabbed Grimmjow by the wrist to stop his friend from leaving the room. "You _think _you like that one cute guy from Art class? But you don't even take Art class!"

Szayel sighed from his lazy position on the couch. "What cute guy?"

Grimmjow resisted rolling his eyes and heaved a sigh instead. "Look, I said he's _from _Art class, not that I'm in the same class as he is."

"Okay, you're confusing the shit out of me, man."

They were in Grimmjow's apartment, hanging out for a few more minutes until they had to get to school before the last bell rang for assembly.

"Wordplay. It's like a mind heist." Szayel snickered from behind long, slender fingers. "You can almost hear the whistle as your explanation flies over Nnoitra's head."

"Shut it, Pink." Nnoitra hissed, the venom absent from his mock-stern tone. "You still owe me five bucks for helping with the project printing."

Szayel blew him a kiss. "Five bucks will also get you a little farther than a kiss tonight."

Nnoitra hurled himself away from Grimmjow and into the pink haired teen's lap for a little loving. "I'm sorry, so sorry, Nnoitra's really, really sorry about what he said earlier."

Szayel chuckled and allowed Nnoitra to thread his fingers through his chin length hair.

"Spare me the sweetness." Grimmjow slid behind the kitchen counter to grab a beer from the fridge. "I might just get diabetes."

The other two were already too into each other to notice anything he said. Grimmjow settled onto a nearby bar chair and savoured the cold, bitter taste of his beer. So far things were going okay, and he wanted to keep it that way. Ichigo was the only thing on his mind right now – aside from scoring good grades and keeping his parents off his back. He contemplated drinking till the insides of his mouth went numb, and then maybe his brain would, too. Only then would the constant flow of wistful thoughts about Ichigo ebb away, leaving him in a peaceful daze.

There were a thousand and one things he would dearly love to do with Ichigo – sex excluded, because he intended to take the orange haired boy slow and steady; there wouldn't be any rushing. Ichigo was something special. He was more than special. Grimmjow took another swig of his beer and swilled it around in his mouth, absently drumming his fingers on the marble tabletop.

"Dude, let's get going." Nnoitra was already shrugging on his school jacket – standard gray polyester, with Karakura High's badge embroidered on the left breast pocket. "We're gonna stop by Adzuki for a burger."

"I don't want to eat fast food for breakfast." Szayel protested weakly, but was quickly shushed with a kiss from Nnoitra.

Grimmjow slid off the bar chair reluctantly and grabbed his backpack. "You're treating."

Ten minutes into their walk to Adzuki, and Szayel just had to stop and stare wistfully at the display in a store window.

"Look at that outfit." He murmured reverently. "I love the way the orange scarf contrasts with the bright blue jeans."

Nnoitra sighed and tried to drag him away. "We're gonna be late."

Grimmjow snickered behind one hand, shaking his head at his friends. He turned to the side and caught sight of something that piqued his curiosity no end.

Ichigo was walking with an unknown nerd, wincing with every step he took. The dark haired nerd whipped out a white piece of cloth – was that lace Grimmjow saw? – and wiped at Ichigo's forehead tentatively, as if he were a fragile porcelain vase that needed extra care.

A thought struck Grimmjow.

"Hey guys." He tugged at Nnoitra's sleeve. "Catch up with ya'll in Adzuki?"

Nnoitra followed his friend's blue eyed gaze and grinned when he saw Ichigo. "Yeah, alright."

Grimmjow made a beeline for the duo, who were walking slowly, seemingly oblivious to their surroundings.

"Got yourself a new boy toy?" He winked in the nerd's general direction.

Ichigo looked up at him and scowled. "Don't you have gang heads to beat up?"

"You know, this is why you always get in trouble." Grimmjow said conversationally, pushing himself in the midst of what little space Ichigo shared with Ishida. "That mouth of yours is really something."

Ichigo sighed at the intended double meaning, already feeling spent despite it only being seven thirty in the morning. Ishida cocked a brow and slipped his hanky in Ichigo's hand.

"Feel better, Kurosaki." He offered him a small smile and gave his fingers a light squeeze. "I'll see you in Chemistry."

Giving his friend a smile of gratitude, Ichigo managed a half-wave. "Thanks, Ishida."

Grimmjow watched the lanky nerd make his way off through the morning crowd, headed in the direction of the subway, which was only five minutes from their school.

"You guys been friends long?"

Ichigo shot him a wary look and chewed on his lower lip. "What's it to you?"

"Just curious." Grimmjow smirked. And a little jealous, but he would rather swallow cement than admit that to Ichigo. "I like discovering things about you."

The light blush dusting his cheeks was answer enough. Grimmjow swallowed a grin lest Ichigo spike up in annoyance and embarrassment again.

"Wanna head to Adzuki?" He asked, watching Ichigo's face casually. "We could get something to eat."

"I already ate." Ichigo said, averting his gaze as he blinked at the pavement. "But go ahead."

Grimmjow valiantly resisted a giant urge to drag Ichigo into a kiss, and took his hand gently instead. "A drink, then."

Ichigo looked up, about to say that he was fine, but one look at Grimmjow's knowing, searching eyes and he swallowed his refusal.

"Okay."

He had about twenty minutes to kill, and it wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway. Why not make a life changing judgement and hang out with the sort-of guy whom he used to hate so much the thought of being within a ten meter radius of him made him puke a little inside but now kind of liked him a little bit, not too much but enough to garner a small smile and a slight rise in heartbeat whenever he saw him?

x

"Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen. Who can tell me which famous writer said that?"

"Mark Twain."

Sawada-sensei stepped out from behind his desk and tossed a king-sized chocolate bar to Ishida, who had duly answered his question. The bespectacled teen grabbed the bar effortlessly, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Good thinking and great catch!" Sawada-sensei ran a hand through his spiky brown hair and laughed.

Aside from his art teacher Ukitake-sensei, Ichigo liked his English Literature teacher the second best. Both were kind and reminded him of his late mother.

"Name one famous title of Mark Twain's novels." Sawada-sensei held up one hand as he scanned the energetic students in the classroom. "Jeagerjacques-kun?"

Somehow the name didn't seem to ring right.

Several heads turned for a quick glance at the blue haired teen sitting at the very back of the class, with his feet propped up on his desk as he stared at his Literature book morosely. A glare made most students face the front again, but that move really only worked on the boys. The girls had some sort of immunity to Grimmjow's scowl.

The teen answered with a gravelly voice – the one that sent many females quivering to their knees. "Tom Sawyer."

"Right!" Their Literature teacher clapped his hands twice, his youthful face brightening up like a child's. "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; rather famous book, that. I loved reading it during my younger days. Would you be so kind to give us a brief summary on the story plot revolving around the main character Tom Sawyer, Jeagerjacques?"

The rest of the class waited with bated breath. After what seemed like an eternity, Grimmjow quit glaring at Sawada-sensei and shook his head.

"Nah."

Somewhere to the left, wedged between the window and a sniffling, nose-blowing classmate sat Ichigo, staring out the glass panes with a dreamy look on his face. He seemed incredibly oblivious to the classroom drama that was going on not too far from where he sat.

"Okay, well. You're obviously going through some issues that you don't want to share, which is fine. So moving on, the next victim of my question would be . . . Kurosaki-kun."

Sawada-sensei smiled when Ichigo didn't look up from his steady gaze out of the window. Walking up quietly behind the orange haired student, the chestnut-haired sensei peeked at Ichigo's notebook, which was flipped open at an odd angle on his desk.

"You seem to have a flair for drawing peculiar things in action, Kurosaki-kun." Sawada-sensei said over the teen's shoulder. "Maybe you could draw something cool for me."

Ichigo blinked and looked at his sensei, who had finally managed to draw his attention away from the window. The rest of the class erupted in titters as the students witnessed Ichigo's facial expression change from dreamy to shocked, accompanied by a deep crimson blush that seemed to flow upward from his neckline. Usually quiet and preferring to stick to himself during classes without his friends, Ichigo was easily embarrassed. Thankfully, Sawada-sensei was well-known for being kind and tactful.

"No one says 'cool' anymore, sensei." Nnoitra snickered, blowing a bubble with his pink and white gum. "You're outdated. You gotta say shit like 'hip, groovy and psychedelic' or you won't fit in no more."

This remark received several laughs, much to Nnoitra's pleasure. He blew another bubble and popped it loudly. Eyes swivelled between the long haired student and the meek-looking spiky haired teacher, intent on finding on what would happen next.

Running a hand through his hair, Sawada-sensei smiled. "That won't work on me, Jiruga. I'm not Byakuya-sensei."

More laughter ensued, and Nnoitra made a face. "Gross, sensei! Call me Nnoitra!"

Ichigo puffed out his cheeks as he sighed with relief. Thank his lucky stars sensei had been distracted! He turned around to shoot Nnoitra a half-grateful, half-admiring glance, but the ebony haired student wasn't looking his way. Instead, honey brown eyes locked contact with piercing cerulean ones. Startled, Ichigo could feel every molecule in his body struggling to turn away and break the stare, but Grimmjow's eyes seemed to draw him in, melting his resolve to look elsewhere. Ever so slowly, the blue haired teen shut one eyelid, one corner of his mouth crooking upward in a sly smirk.

Finally mustering up the willpower to drop his eyes and face the front once more, Ichigo valiantly fought the oncoming blush that threatened to spread out over to the tips of his ears and succeeded. The bell rang just in time, signalling the end of English Literature and the start of Music period.

"Alright, hand in your practice books for grading! Nnoitra, see me in the office after class for lessons on where to stick your gum before you enter my class."

An audible groan from Nnoitra as the other students shuffled to their feet, sluggishly getting ready to thank their sensei for his time before the next period teacher came in.

"Aww, sensei!" Nnoitra spat out his gum into a ripped piece of notebook paper. "You said 'class' twice. Don't you feel it's kinda weird you're not saying words like 'hip' and 'psychedelic'?"

Sawada-sensei packed his books and files with a happy laugh. "I wasn't even born in that era, Nnoitra. Don't _you_ feel it's weird you're trying to psych me into utilizing words when you can prank Byakuya-sensei into saying them?"

Ichigo chuckled; class sure was fun when he had a couple of smart-alecks around to spice up the mundane routine of lessons. That, and a fun, understanding teacher.

Someone flicked his spiky hair from the back, and Ichigo turned to look up. He immediately wished he hadn't. Blue eyes twinkled down at him as Grimmjow gave him the sexiest smile he'd ever seen him wear – much to the swooning of many admiring girls around. Dropping his backpack on Ichigo's notes, Grimmjow ran a hand through his wavy hair and shrugged his shoulders before rolling his long uniform sleeves up.

"How's my favourite boy?" Grimmjow did the slow-wink again, instantly sending a couple of girls nearby into a melting mush.

"I – I finished another art portrait of you." Embarrassed, Ichigo chewed on his lower lip, fiddling with the straps of his own backpack. "Do you . . . maybe you'd like to see it?"

Grimmjow smirked, watching the orange haired teen's actions with a fond gaze. Ichigo was no better than a blushing schoolgirl when it came to awkward tension, though he certainly was better than a blushing schoolgirl in many other countless aspects. Blue eyes traced the pouty shape and outline of Ichigo's lips, stopping when said teen began chewing his lower lip, worrying his pink skin with white teeth, running over his lip with a pink, wet tongue.

Tongue.

Grimmjow almost lost his cool.

A short, confused glance from Ichigo went ignored as the blue haired teen placed one hand on the back of Ichigo's chair, the other on the side of his face, cupping his cheek – god, his skin was softer than he'd expected! – as he bent lower, leaning in closer. They stared at each other, one in mild discomfort and the other in fuzzy-minded lust.

"Grimmjow?"

"Yeah?"

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Your fingers are cold."

Grimmjow's thread of thought went through a few ditches and deep into a murky swamp before sliding into a fantasy-filled jungle.

"Maybe you'd like to warm them up for me."

Ichigo stared. "I'll pass, thanks."

Damn.

No really, damn!

What did he think he was doing? Inwardly cursing, Grimmjow felt like kicking himself. He had to cover up before he blew it. This thin strand of maybe-friendship with Ichigo was so fragile it could be severed with one single gust of wind from a camel exhaling somewhere in the Sahara.

"Can you let go of my face?"

"No." Grimmjow's mind was awhirl as he weighed the options of kissing Ichigo and not kissing Ichigo. "This is a precious moment in a precious time."

"What?" Ichigo's brows furrowed as he puzzled over the words. "What're you talking about?"

Grimmjow heaved a small sigh, stroking the skin on Ichigo's cheek absent-mindedly. "Never mind what I said. The answer is yes."

Amber eyes narrowed as Ichigo tried to piece the jumbled puzzle together. "Huh?"

"I would really, really like to see the portrait." Grimmjow mulled over each syllable slowly, as if Ichigo was an idiot. A smirk sculpted his lips as he read the orange haired teen's reaction. "Please."

He ran his thumb over the skin of Ichigo's lower lip gently, keeping his eyes fixed on Ichigo's. They hung there for a moment in time, as if wrapped in a soft cocoon of their own.

Yammy pushing a random student into a wall made a loud thumping sound, jarring both teens out of their own world.

Jerking away from Grimmjow with a furious blush dusting his cheeks, Ichigo blinked and dropped his gaze to his books, which were still sprawled out over his desk. He was vaguely aware of his circle of friends and Grimmjow's, all milling about behind them, trying to fade into the background while simultaneously eavesdropping on their whispered conversation.

"But don't you have Music period right now?"

"Not much going on; we usually just jam and do covers and talk."

Ichigo had one free period, which he usually spent in the Art room, or lying down underneath the bleachers in the outdoor gym whenever the weather was sunny. "Oh."

Grimmjow had no qualms about skipping his favourite class. "So, the portrait?"

"I – It's in Art room Three, behind the paint lab." Ichigo stammered out, fingers fumbling with the zipper on his backpack. "S – Should we go?"

"Sure, lead the way." Grimmjow gave him a genuine smile, loving every moment of the time he could spend with the orange haired teen. "I can't wait to see it."

More like, he couldn't wait to be alone with Ichigo.

But he didn't need to tell him that.

x

Beady black eyes watched Grimmjow talk to Ichigo, smirk at him, and help him pack his stuff. Said eyes narrowed, and Keigo pushed back the long fringe on his face. So Grimmjow had started hanging out with Ichigo more often now, and he was maybe feeling left out about it. Of course, he wouldn't really ask Ichigo about it, trusting him to tell him if and when he was ready, but still, as a friend, who wouldn't be suspicious? He needed to tell the rest, pronto. Keigo nudged Mizuiro, who was busy trying to rip open a packet of crisps. The action pushed him into Chad's back, who in turn grabbed onto Inoue, who was talking animatedly to Tatsuki. She was shoved forward into her friend, who grabbed her shoulders just in time to avoid an accidental kiss, their faces mere millimetres from each other. Several classmates had their jaws hitting the tiled floor with a chorus of dull clunks.

Amid the chaos, Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo by the hand and ran out of class with him.

"Did you see that?" Keigo asked as everyone glared at him. "That was weird, but pretty cool at the same time. I mean, who knew?"

"You jerk!" Tatsuki lobbed her water bottle at him, grabbing other school supplies to hurl at her classmate as he ducked. "You just wanted to perv out at that didn't you?"

Was his classmate nuts?

Keigo blinked. "What? No way. That's gross. Like I'd do something like that."

He glared at Mizuiro. "Don't tell me you didn't see it. They were like, so close to each other!"

"I was too busy trying not to fall over, thanks to your suave moves."

More glaring ensued, and unfortunately, more school items flung his way.

"Stop!" Keigo dodged as he backed away with both arms around his face in a defensive stance. "What did I do?"

"That idiot never learns." Ishida said as he stood nearby, playing innocent spectator.

As Grimmjow led Ichigo down the block's staircase, they heard a wail from Keigo.

"This is all a misunderstanding!"

x

Approximately fifteen blocks away from Karakura High, a group of students had no reservations about cutting school.

Amagawa flicked a small tennis ball against the wall of his hideout, somewhere behind a run-down music store in the sleazy part of town. The top of his bald head shone in the dingy orange light emitted from a fluorescent lamp attached to the ceiling. Loud rock music blared from the dusty looking speakers on the walls, and several of his loyal henchmen played snooker to his left. Two girls in sparkly, skimpy dresses draped themselves over him, each batting their eyelashes at him and glaring at each other, both females clearly viewing the other as unnecessary competition. Amagawa belched – must've been the cheap beer he'd been slugging since he'd woken up (and that was at four am, because the back of his head still tingled with the memory of Grimmjow's soft drink can belting him one in the noggin) – and both girls giggled, rubbing their small hands on his protruding stomach as he grinned somewhat proudly at them.

Nearby, one of his cronies sauntered over to wordlessly hand his leader a phone. Amagawa grabbed it and skimmed the message, which had a photo included. The picture was a little blurry, and someone's thumb took up a quarter of the camera space, but the people in the image were easily discernible. One had bright blue hair and wore a cocky smirk, while the other had orange hair and looked mildly surprised.

"Jeagerjacques." Amagawa narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Who's the kid behind him?"

"Orange, Boss. The guy from the other day."

The phone beeped; another message received. Amagawa had no misgivings about reading it. There was a second photo attached, and he growled when he saw the contents.

Ichigo was leaning against a wall, one wrist pinned to the faded brick behind him. Blue hair obscured most of his face, but it was obvious that the duo were both in the middle of a passionate open-mouthed kiss. Amagawa narrowed his eyes at this, a slow smirk spreading across his ugly face. His crony craned his neck to peek at the picture.

"Whoa, is that really Orange?" the thug made a face. "With Jeagerjacques?"

Almost instantly, the other thugs made their way over, echoing his question to their ring leader.

"Orange?"

"Jeagerjacques?"

"Orange with Jeagerjacques?"

"Is that really his name?"

"Who?"

"Orange or Jeagerjacques?"

"The one with the hair."

"But both of them have hair."

"Except Boss."

"Leave Boss out of this."

"Boss has hair?"

"Pretty sure he does . . ."

"Doesn't look that way right now."

"Don't mention the hair!"

"What hair?"

Amagawa had had enough.

"Shut up!" he hollered, successfully scaring both girls who had been having a small catfight over who got to fondle his flabby chest first.

The girls pouted at him, making him rub his hands on their shoulders to ease them back into airheaded silence and halfhearted purring in hopes of attention.

"Sorry, Boss." The thugs chorused before lapsing into obedient silence.

For a moment, nothing could be heard save for the whirring of Amagawa's brain – which was badly in need of some oiling and a whole lot more vocabulary, with maybe some addition and long division on the side – and the soft giggling of one of the girls as his fingers played with her left boob.

Obviously he was still sore from the total ass kicking he'd gotten the other day. Amagawa definitely had more people – more like mindless thugs – on his side and Grimmjow clearly only hung out with his small group of friends. Regardless of their number, however, Amagawa's loyal followers could only dream of beating up Grimmjow's gang and still come out with all limbs properly attached. Since school started, Amagawa and Grimmjow had been at each other's throats, but the blue haired teen had quickly lost interest in the bald one, suggesting a truce between them so that both students could continue their high school life with a certain degree of peace. Despite the neutrality, that skinny long haired member of Grimmjow's gang had had the guts to kick him in the stomach.

It had been embarrassing and penis shrinking, especially in front of the rest of his loyal followers. They hadn't really said anything about it, probably out of fear of getting the boot from Amagawa's gang, but the bald gang leader felt the heat all the same.

Amagawa wasn't used to being humiliated. Grimmjow had been a thorn in his side for far too long; he'd just been too much of a spineless idiot to properly admit he was the weaker, less intelligent one.

"So Jeagerjacques has a thing for Orange." Amagawa broke the reign of quiet. "That's one of his weaknesses now. If he wants to pick a fight with me, then I'm all green light."

The thugs chortled with glee over their Boss' latest revelation.

"Boss is all green light!" Chuckled one with horribly dyed purple and gold hair.

Straightening his school jacket, the thug with blond streaks in his sideburns looked confused. "Boss is green?"

"Wait, I don't see no green light." Said a thug with a violently pink Mohawk. "I don't see no light at all."

"You're getting blind, Shina."

Shina frowned, running a hand through his pink hair. "I am?"

"You gotta be able to see some light."

"There really is no light around here."

"That's cause Boss' head reflects it all at the wrong angles."

There were a few titters from the rest of the thugs, and the ones who were far too stupid to get the joke joined in so they wouldn't feel left out.

Not really a wise thing to say, much less laugh about. If you wanted to keep on Boss' good side, that is.

Amagawa growled. "Say that again, you little fuck."

The two girls squealed as he threw the couch in the direction of his loyal followers.

x

The Art room was quiet, save for the soft murmuring of two teens as they sat on the tiled floor. Ichigo's legs were resting over Grimmjow's, and the blue haired teen had his hands on his back and waist. They had been there for the past twenty minutes, muddling around the room after Grimmjow had seen Ichigo's portrait and cooed appropriately over it – much to Ichigo's pleasure and modest embarrassment. They were picking up art supplies and checking them out before replacing them, keeping up inane chatter.

Then Grimmjow had pulled him into a kiss.

They hadn't come up for air since then.

Sliding an arm around Grimmjow's neck, Ichigo buried both hands in his wavy blue hair, gently massaging his scalp as Grimmjow's tongue rolled over his, guiding him around in slow gentle circles. From the way Grimmjow kissed, Ichigo could tell he definitely had a lot of experience. He could make him melt into his arms, quickly finding all his sweet spots with that sinful tongue.

Ichigo wasn't sure what all these kisses meant, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want Grimmjow to stop. His mind, previously awhirl with confused thoughts and questions, many of them directed at why the blue haired teen was suddenly getting so close with him – was now calming down, numbed by the way Grimmjow swirled his tongue over Ichigo's, nibbling at his lower lip expertly. Well, that was just an excuse, really. If he really wanted to find out why Grimmjow was being so nice, so kind, so . . . unlike Grimmjow from two weeks ago, he could easily have pushed him away and demanded some answers.

But Ichigo didn't exactly feel like caring about that right now.

In the short amount of time he'd shared with Nice-Grimmjow, he'd quickly fallen under the blue haired teen's spell; coming to love this predatory half-delinquent. Ichigo could definitely see that beneath all the masks Grimmjow wore, he was actually pretty normal and nice. He was kind.

The orange haired teen wondered if he was the type to fall in love easily.

Fingers were feeling around his chest, as if searching for something. Through their gentle kissing, Ichigo blinked at Grimmjow curiously.

"Where's your pendant?" Grimmjow asked quietly, breaking the kiss.

Ichigo looked down at his chest, where the necklace he was so used to wearing was missing. "Baldy kinda took it from me that other day."

Blue eyes flashed, shifting from curious to furious. "What?"

Ichigo quailed under the force of the glare. "I – It's not that important."

"Bullshit!" Grimmjow ground out, then quickly realized he was scaring Ichigo, which was the exact opposite of what he intended right now. "It's important to me; he took something from you."

Awkward.

What kind of guy would say that to another guy?

Actually, what kind of bully would kiss his victim in the darkest corner of the Art room?

What kind of victim would let himself be dragged into a makeout session with the bane of his life in the darkest corner of the Art room?

No, this wasn't the time to think about that.

Deciding it was time for a change of subject, Ichigo cleared the awkwardness away from his throat. "Um . . . how'd you know I wore a necklace?"

He'd always taken care not to let it show during school, especially not around the staff room and hallways, where the discipline teachers roamed and stalked their prey, waiting for a chance to pounce and go in for the kill. If he were to ask his close friends, he was pretty sure they wouldn't even be able to tell that he wore a necklace. And he'd never been that close with Grimmjow to begin with, so who wouldn't be curious?

Grimmjow pulled back a little, glad he didn't blush as easily as others did. Ichigo was making him come undone, unravelling all the barriers he'd been carefully constructing – and the depressing part was the orange haired teen had no clue he was doing it.

"I've always known everything about you." Grimmjow whispered, choosing to tell the truth. "Whatever I didn't know, I made sure to find out."

Honey brown eyes watched him, and Grimmjow felt like he could drown in them. He waited for a few minutes, deeming it safe to lean in closer to continue their make out session.

A hand on his chest stopped him.

"What you really mean to say is," Ichigo was frowning as he spoke, which Grimmjow took as a negative sign. "You've been stalking me."

It didn't come out with a question mark at the end, or at least certainly didn't sound like it. Grimmjow swallowed. Stalking Ichigo couldn't even cover the extremes of what he'd gone through to find out about his severe crush.

"Not really, no." Grimmjow lied through his teeth.

After all, he'd just spoke the truth just now, so a little lie could cover that up.

Right?

Ichigo glared.

Wrong.

"Be honest with me."

Trying to appear nonchalant, Grimmjow gave him a one-shoulder shrug. "There isn't much, really. You've had some girls chasing you for a while at the start of high school, but I took care of them. Boys, too – like that creepy, drooling Captain of the Kendo club. He would've sent you a ton of love letters in your locker if I hadn't dealt with him."

The blue haired teen chuckled; tilting his head to catch Ichigo's shocked reaction before he continued. "You were called the Geek back in middle school because you studied like crazy to get in here, but you didn't have to really; your grades were good enough to land you in the Upper East Side of Karakura. Though you didn't want to school there; everyone you knew had enrolled here, making this your first choice. Family wise; your dad's a doctor, runs the local clinic. You have twin sisters. They go to Karakura Middle School, like Stark's younger sister. You like passion fruit juice, peach buns and chocolate covered strawberries. A little girly, but it's cute. And that pendant you've always had on . . . it was a gift from a special someone."

Amazed at how much Grimmjow knew, Ichigo tensed up.

"So, what else have you found out about me?"

Ichigo's tone was neutral, though his eyes said otherwise. He looked ready to stick his fist into Grimmjow's face. Grimmjow instantly slid a new mask on.

"Nothing you don't already know." Which was obviously the wrong thing to say, but Grimmjow wasn't in the mood for explaining himself when he could be kissing the daylights out of Ichigo. "Relax, okay? I'm just trying to be nice to you now that you've stopped hating my guts."

Now that he'd stopped hating his guts?

What, like he could forget those long moments of pure embarrassment he had been forced to endure from Grimmjow? The past four years of his life in Karakura High had been scarred, thanks to this smirking, flirtatious blue haired player.

In a flash, bitterness filled Ichigo's throat, bubbling up and making his mouth feel sour. Grimmjow knew everything about him, tormented him for the past four years, and had the guts to admit he was trying to be nice now that Ichigo wasn't treating him like a squashed worm underneath his sneaker? He'd come to a sudden realization that Grimmjow had just been toying with him, which was insanely stupid of him because he'd been so trusting all along, going with the flow and acting like he hadn't been bullied all those times during class – humiliated even, sometimes.

Why?

Evidently Ichigo had forgotten how persuasive Grimmjow was.

Fooling around with teachers – even that strict sensei who always wore a black fedora – and getting everyone else in trouble while he got off scot-free; Grimmjow was a notorious walking influence. Flashbacks to the memories of school he would have given his kidneys to forget were reappearing now. In his mind's eye, he could visualize Grimmjow smirking as Ichigo slowly got up from the ground, where he'd been tripped as he was carrying his lunch tray, trying to ignore the scornful, mocking laughter from the students in the cafeteria. That had been truly embarrassing, and when the teacher on duty arrived on the scene to intervene, Grimmjow had made up a story about Ichigo falling over himself. Ichigo had obviously been loudly reprimanded for being so clumsy by the teacher, and had to spend his lunch period washing the soup and sauce out of his uniform.

He could forget about going hungry that day, but he couldn't forget what Grimmjow had done to him.

Ichigo had always been the laughingstock during gym because Grimmjow always made a fool out of him. He could remember those sore moments when Grimmjow would dunk his head down into the school swimming pool, making him choke and splutter in chlorine-tainted water, while one of his friends pulled down Ichigo's swimming shorts. He'd been forced to swim to the most deserted corner of the pool and wait for everyone to go to the locker room before he could come out. If Tatsuki knew, she would've kicked Grimmjow in the balls. Back then, they'd been separated from the girls, so Ichigo didn't have Tatsuki around to stick up for him like he did now.

He remembered sneaking out to the school's garden shed, crouching down on the soft grass to cry his heart out because Grimmjow had just spilled chocolate milk all over the contents of his precious art folder.

He could even see Grimmjow getting all those girls Ichigo viewed as potential girlfriends, and boys he'd viewed as potential boyfriends to swoon at his side, leaving Ichigo confused and hurt as to why they'd left him for someone like Grimmjow.

And now he was being pulled in for the trick, slipping the noose around his own neck.

This was too much for Ichigo, who felt like he needed to make a run for it. Anywhere would be great without having to see Grimmjow right now. He stood up abruptly, hands balling into fists at his sides.

"I shouldn't have trusted you." Ichigo blurted out, turning away and stalking toward the door.

"Wait, what?" Grimmjow moved at lightning speed, grabbing him by the wrist before he could even reach for the door handle. "What does that mean? Where are you going?"

"You have Music class right now." Ichigo replied stoically, wrenching the door open with the same force he used to snatch his wrist back. "There's something I need to do."

No. No no no no no. This wasn't the way he'd wanted it to turn out. Grimmjow ran through a dozen apologies in his mind, trying to come up with one that wouldn't sound lame to Ichigo's ears. Where had he gone wrong? Maybe he'd said too much. But Ichigo had asked. And Grimmjow didn't really want to lie to him.

Though he probably should have, seeing how quickly Ichigo had changed his mind about staying with him.

"Ichigo, I . . ."

Ichigo was already gone, hurtling as fast as he could down the stairs that led to the courtyard between Block D and E as if monsters were after him.

"Fuck." Grimmjow aimed a hard, sharp kick at the door of the Art room. "Fuck!"

Damn his bloody big mouth. Fucking hell. Grimmjow bit his lower lip hard, wincing as he tasted blood. He licked at his self-inflicted wound and sighed as he felt the sting of saliva soothing over his busted lip. Why didn't he just stick to the lies? There was something about Ichigo that made him want to spill all his deepest, darkest secrets with him, but he wasn't sure if the orange haired boy could handle it.

God, everything was just.

So.

Messed up.

Fuck.

Grimmjow gave the door another vicious kick and set off at a run for the same flight of stairs he'd seen Ichigo rush down. There wasn't anything he could have done to pull the words out of Ichigo's ears and stuff them back into his mouth, but at least now he could apologize. Even if Ichigo didn't really want to hear what he had to say.

Damned if he was going to let him go.

Not like this.

x

"Hey." Ishida approached Stark, who was just out of the school gym. "Do you have a minute?"

"Starting from now." Stark shot him a wry grin as he towelled off the sweat from his neck and back. "What's up, glasses boy?"

Quietly taking the playful jibe in stride, Ishida flicked a stray lock of his fringe from his face and gestured cordially toward a deserted corridor beside the gym. He led the way and tapped the vending machine that stood there in all its warm, whirring glory.

"Want a drink? It's on me."

Stark eyed Ishida with a look of pure curiosity. "It's fine, man."

Ishida shrugged and turned to deposit some coins into the machine slot. "I think you're fairly curious as to why I called you out here."

"No shit." Stark shrugged.

"My question is simple. What would someone who barely talks to another, save for bone picking, do with the other when they are clearly only probable acquantainces, who share nothing in common whatsoever, except maybe the same music band?"

Ishida cracked open his can of iced green tea and honey and received the full force of Stark's stare.

"Dude, you're about as complex as a fricking maze in the Amazon."

Only he didn't say fricking.

Ishida narrowed his eyes. "I just want answers."

"You'd get them if you spoke simplified Japanese." Stark chuckled good-naturedly.

"I just did." Ishida muttered. "Sorry for assuming your brain could actually wrap around the –"

Stark held up both hands. "Whoa. You're like a time bomb. Just rephrase the question, bro."

Ishida heaved a long-suffering sigh, earning him a look of pure amusement. "What does Grimmjow want with Ichigo?"

x

**Has anyone seen this site? Facebook stories dot com, without the spaces of course. The story of Mayank Sharma is pretty moving. Go check it out if you haven't yet! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo slid into his seat with a soft sigh. He was the last one to enter Biology class, and twenty minutes late at that. Thankfully he hadn't been reprimanded, save for a nod from the obviously distracted sensei; too busy dishing out hibiscus flowers to whoever was on laboratory assistant duty. Apparently they were dissecting flowers today to study the reproductive system of plants.

He hadn't arrived late to school. Quite the opposite, in fact; Ichigo had come to school at exactly seven forty-five in the morning, fifteen minutes early for daily assembly. He hadn't managed to attend that, much to Grimmjow's disappointment. Listening to the principal's steady droning wasn't as exciting without the chance to do some Ichigo-watching. Ichigo had been detained elsewhere, far from the assembly grounds in front of Block A and away from teachers.

Amagawa had sent three of his lackeys to corner the orange haired teen when he exited the library and brought him to the deserted courtyard between Block D and E. There hadn't been much talking, really, just a couple of exchanged glares and a lot of unasked questions on Ichigo's part as the thugs started advancing on him. They'd been ordered to beat Ichigo up in front of Amagawa, giving him minor – but still painful – injuries everywhere else on his body except his face and hands, because they would show, and teachers would come around asking questions no one wanted to answer. No one involved, that is.

The bald gang leader knew that Ichigo would rather swallow wet cement than go running to a teacher for help.

He gave the younger teen a sound kick in the stomach, satisfied by the pained grunt Ichigo released as he curled up involuntarily on the grass, vision getting more blurry by the second. Another kick lashed out at the teen's back, hurting his already sore spot a second time. Ichigo let loose a cry of agony. The thugs hurriedly looked around, getting spooked by the possibility of teachers or other students spotting them.

"Let's get going." One of the thugs suggested nervously, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his modified school jacket. "What if Byakuya-sensei comes? Heard he's on patrol duty today."

Ichigo coughed a little blood out of his mouth; he'd hit the ground face down and bit a hefty chunk of the inside of his left cheek. Everywhere on his body hurt like a bitch. It felt like his old wounds were reopened.

Amagawa sneered as he squatted on the damp soil beside Ichigo. He grasped Ichigo by the chin, blunt, grimy fingernails digging into the teen's skin.

"Listen up, Orange." He spat on the grass near Ichigo's face. It irked him to see his spittle miss its shot. "Don't think we'll let you off so easily. Just because Jeagerjacques is taking your side, doesn't mean your ass is covered for the rest of your time here. And guess what?"

Ichigo gritted his teeth and glared at the ugly bald thug with a vengeance. He hated this guy's guts.

"We're gonna play with you every chance we get." Amagawa ignored Ichigo's glare of rage. "Cry for help, why don't you? Maybe Jeagerjacques will come save your pansy ass again."

With that, Amagawa stood up and brushed some dirt off his jacket sleeves. He beckoned to his loyal cronies, who followed after him like a bunch of loser puppies. Ichigo spent all of five minutes keeping still on the damp grass, breathing deep breaths as slowly as he could. It was taking all of his energy not to move. He knew if he so much as pressed a sore spot on his arm, he'd feel a spike of pain instantly envelop his senses.

Still, he had to move sometime. And sometime soon, if he didn't want to get caught by the school's gardener or worse, Byakuya-sensei. Ichigo had managed to roll to his knees and get up in an awkward standing position before staggering against a pillar after barely three steps. His head had swum with the force of having taken a few beatings, then left upside down.

No matter what, he was _not_ going to call for help. Not even from any of his friends; Ishida would definitely tell someone, like a teacher, and Chad would give him worried looks and stick to him like glue for the rest of the week. Of course, Ichigo knew it was all for his benefit, having friends who obviously cared about his wellbeing, but he didn't want any special treatment. What he had with Amagawa was his to deal with. There wouldn't be anyone else standing in his way, protecting him, when his wounds healed well enough for him to throw a few punches and come out the winner. Ichigo vowed that the bald thug would be dead the next time he caught him alone; poor sucker couldn't even fight without any of his cronies there to egg him on.

Back to Biology.

Ichigo winced as he shifted in his seat to shrug off his backpack strap resting on his right shoulder. One of Amagawa's thugs had given him a punch that had a brutal impact so hard; the hypothetical idea could be used to cut diamonds.

In short, first his back hurt like a bitch. Now his right shoulder hurt like a bigger bitch. As big as most bitches got, anyway.

Great, now his mind was coming up with metaphors so lame they were beginning to warp a whole corner of his abused brain. Ichigo took a deep breath and tried rolling his shoulders experimentally. He wished he hadn't. Letting out a groan of pure agony, the teen practically crumpled over his wood desk like a dying beetle. As far as most dying beetles crumpled, anyway. Ichigo groaned a second time, this time in agony over the fact that his brain was intent on coming up with the weirdest comparisons to his painful plight.

It had to be the pain. Either that, or the time he'd spent with Grimmjow was making his brain melt continuously. Like a piece of spongy pulp rolling around in the cavity of his head, like a soggy mush.

Wonderful.

Ichigo tried to clear his mind so he would be free of strangely irritating contemplations. Stupid metaphors that did nothing but distract his mind from the pain practically radiating off his body, screaming bloody murder for some medical attention – silently.

Over at the back of the lab, Grimmjow sat wedged between Yammy and Nnoitra, with Stark inherently shielding him from view of the teacher, who was still yammering away up front about some strangely missing apparatus. Cerulean eyes watched Ichigo's every move, narrowing in suspicion when the orange haired teenager stiffened before slumping forward onto his desk like he'd been recently whacked between the shoulder blades. Grimmjow knew the feeling, having been through a hundred and one fights with thugs in the vicinity.

In all honesty, Grimmjow wasn't sure when his heart began beating to the rhythm of two words, Kurosaki Ichigo. But when he'd finally realized he was harboring an arcane crush for the other boy, he'd dug himself in deep and started stalking him – literally. Though not in a creepy way, or so he liked to console himself. Still, realizing you were stalking someone was a signal that you were still a couple more blocks from going round the bend.

"Dude." Stark waved a hand before Grimmjow's face. "I'm ordering pizza for lunch. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows this guy, who said he can deliver through the hole in the fence behind the old gym on Block E. Sound cool?"

Grimmjow nodded absently, swatting Stark's hand from his line of Ichigo-vision. "Anything for you, bro."

"I also think you've got the gayest hair in history. It beats Szayel's pink 'do hands down."

"Uh huh." Grimmjow focused on Ichigo, who was now punching the bottom of his desk gently, as if he was cursing inwardly about his hatred for the world, or probably just Biology class. "True that."

Yammy exchanged a long look with Stark and Nnoitra.

"Oh yeah, and aside from that, I slept with your mom last night, and she says she wants me to marry her so we can live happily ever after in my apartment, where I rule on my Throne of Sex." Stark watched Grimmjow carefully.

On a normal day, Grimmjow would have leaned over and smacked him upside the head, but today was definitely not going as normally as Stark hoped.

"Dude." Nnoitra made a face. "Give the guy a break."

Yammy chuckled and popped a stick of gum into his mouth. "Seems to me he's already broken."

Nnoitra chuckled, while Stark gave Yammy a mock glare for the hundred percent lameness of his joke.

"Grimmy darlin'." Szayel leaned over from where he sat nestled close to Nnoitra's side. "I could suck you dry in the girl's locker room in Block B if you like."

Nnoitra bristled while Stark clapped both hands over his face, a clear show of disgust and exasperation.

"Dude, seriously?" Yammy looked like he'd just swallowed his gum, which wasn't much of a surprise.

"Did you swallow your gum?" Grimmjow surprised them as he rubbed a hand over Yammy's vast back. "See if you can spit it out."

Yammy spat obediently onto a vivid pink handkerchief Szayel duly handed him.

"Man." Stark shook his head while the rest burst out into laughter. "How long were you gonna keep that up, Grimmjow? Anyway, welcome back to good old Earth and Biology class."

"Yeah." Grimmjow waved a hand nonchalantly. "Hey, you guys know anyone who hangs with that Kurosaki kid before school?"

"Not really." Nnoitra shrugged. "That pansy ass kid with glasses, maybe?"

"Who else?" Grimmjow kept his blue eyes trained on Ichigo's fragile body, noting the obvious signs of fatigue virtually glowing off the boy.

Sparing Ichigo a glance, Stark turned back and leaned in closer to his lab mates. "I saw him head off with a couple guys from 3-G before assembly. Didn't see him around during the morning's speeches so I figured he skipped out."

Class 3-G was famous for their thugs, all under the rule of Amagawa's thumb. Things suddenly clicked into place and Grimmjow gave a low growl.

"What?" Nnoitra narrowed his eyes into slits as he watched his blue haired friend. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Regardless of your high upstanding delusion that your brain cells are better coordinated than mine, do not try to lump me in with you." Grimmjow smoothly replied, flicking a strand of Nnoitra's flyaway hair off the shoulder of his padded school jacket.

"Burn." Stark chuckled as Nnoitra aimed a not-too-hard-but-hardly-gentle punch for Grimmjow's shoulder. "And you wanted to give this guy a _break_? Shows how much pity he has for you."

Nnoitra rolled his eyes. "Can it, Coyote. I have a kind heart that bleeds."

"Is that by any way related to the hypothesis that your cock is always limp due to chronic masturbation?" Stark shot back, sending Szayel and Yammy into peals of laughter, adding to the chaos in the laboratory.

"Bloody hell." Nnoitra all but wailed. "Give _me_ a goddamn break."

Szayel settled for rubbing his back and nuzzling his cheek with his nose, reassuring his boyfriend with the promise of a very good surprise during lunch at Block D's deserted swimming pool.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow was already plotting things as he pieced ideas into place – sort of like a patchwork quilt in the making process. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. Silly metaphors were clogging his mind flow. So not the time to be thinking about unnecessary things.

"You guys remember the day Amagawa messed with Kurosaki?" He asked.

"Oh come on. That kid again?" Yammy shook his head.

"Dude, you have like, an unhealthy obsession." Nnoitra observed.

"You mean, _tried_ to mess with him. You saved his ass, bro." Stark reminded him.

Grimmjow smiled. These were his friends. They would be right there to support him and stand beside him and stick with him no matter what stupid decision he planned to make. That was the unspoken pact they shared with each other. It was the moment of glorified truth that Grimmjow felt warmth seep into his chest at the way his friends reciprocated, however unique their methods of response to his single question.

"Are you thinking of avenging him?" Szayel spoke what was on his mind.

His words were like little fiery bombs landing on Grimmjow's skin, burning him with the harsh truth.

"Because if you are, Grimmjow, I'm not sure how I feel about it. You know how I get when it comes to fighting, especially fighting kids in school."

Szayel's stern amber-eyed gaze softened a great deal as he maintained eye contact with Grimmjow.

"And know that whatever wacky idea you come up with, I'm here. But don't say I didn't warn you. Teachers are always around. If there's something up Kurosaki-kun's ass, he should be able to deal with it on his own. Whatever is his problem, remains his problem. It's best not to interfere."

"Are you kidding?" Stark leaned over to tousle Szayel's neatly combed hair. "We've already interfered, Pink."

Nnoitra swatted his hand away. "Dude, hands off the merchandise."

Grimmjow laughed. "You guys are incredible, you know that?"

"Did you just figure that out?" Yammy quipped as he popped two new sticks of gum into his mouth.

"We're going to keep Amagawa away from Ichigo." Grimmjow said firmly.

For the second time that day, Yammy accidentally swallowed his gum. Grimmjow tossed him a bottle of water to stem his coughing.

Nnoitra gaped. "Whoa, slow down tiger. Do we look like bodyguards to you?"

Stark was leaning his chin on his hands now, knuckles facing Grimmjow directly. The blue haired teen could see the Roman numerals tattooed on the calloused skin of his fingers, just below his knuckles.

"Ichigo? Not Kurosaki, anymore?" Stark frowned. "Grimmjow, I know you have this huge crush on the kid, but don't you think this is getting a little . . . out of hand?"

Growing red in the face, Grimmjow all but spluttered. "I – It's not getting out of hand!"

"My guess, what you meant to say is: I don't have a crush on him!" Nnoitra responded sarcastically. "Admit it already. We know you're serious about that kid. The sooner you get over it, the better."

Common sense told Grimmjow to shut up before he said things he'd normally rather not say. Instead, he bunched his hands up inside his school jacket and inhaled a much needed breath of oxygen, deeply.

"Look," Stark said, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender. Ever the pacifist. "Let's just think things through. You don't want to do something rash and suffer the consequences, right?"

Yammy crushed the empty bottle of water into a mashed heap before tossing it into the trashcan. "Grimm, I hate to be a party pooper, but there are things I wouldn't think of doing while sober. Like stepping into a fight between a random kid and Amagawa. Bald guy might be weak as hell on his own, but he sure as heck has a lot of tough goons on his side. And I don't think I wanna find out what happens when they're all angry."

Hearing this little speech about sensibility from Yammy sparked a flame of anger in Grimmjow.

"If you guys don't wanna help me out, it's cool. I can do this on my own."

This caused a general hubbub from Szayel, Stark and Yammy.

"Hold up." Nnoitra slammed a hand on the table. "Everyone shut the hell up."

When everyone at their lab table was quiet, Nnoitra sighed deeply and slapped Grimmjow on the shoulder before giving him a hard squeeze.

"Bro, I'm here for you. Do whatever it takes. I'll help you get your man."

Grimmjow stared at him for the stretch of a full minute before bursting into laughter. The others followed suit.

"What'd I say?" Nnoitra was shrugging helplessly at Szayel, who was busting a gut.

Grimmjow took a minute to revel in the moment. He really did have amazing friends.

x

Ichigo stepped out of gym feeling like a ton of bricks had just landed on his head. He really shouldn't have pressured himself to run the fifty rounds on the basketball court, but he didn't want to look like a total wuss in front of everyone else. Besides, Coach Kensei was a demon when it came to training. They had a tournament in eight weeks, and Ichigo still hadn't made the tryouts. And now he had a headache to contend with, accompanied by the screaming cacophony of his bruised and beaten muscles.

"You doing okay?"

Someone laid a hand gently on his shoulder. For a kid who'd been trying to avoid getting into physical contact with anyone during school hours, Ichigo handled the touch with a light jump before careening into a wall. Thankfully the lack of hard surface – there was a corkboard and several pinned notices stuck to the horridious blue and gray painted wall – cushioned his would-be bruise.

Slowly pushing away from the corkboard, Ichigo looked up with a considerable amount of surprise. Coyote Stark was the center on the basketball team, lived and breathed basketball, Student Council President's assistant and all round nice guy. But one thing Stark never did was talk to Ichigo like he was a friend. In fact, they'd never even gotten past a 'hey' or a 'hi' at all. And that was mostly due to the sheer miracle where they'd shared two minutes of their life together on the basketball court during tryouts exactly one year and three months ago.

"I'm fine." Ichigo winced as his words came out a little more defensive than he'd meant them to sound.

Stark cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Okay. Just wanted to see if you felt like hanging out with us for lunch today."

In all five years of sharing the same school grounds together, Ichigo had never – ever – been asked to join the popular guy gang for lunch break. Before this, he'd never even given a damn.

"Sure." Ichigo felt like someone else was speaking through his mouth. "That'd be cool."

Stark smiled. He looked gorgeous as usual. Ichigo cursed his radar for picking up details like that. A couple girls walking by giggled and turned their gazes automatically on Stark, which wasn't surprising, since he was taller than Ichigo and way hotter. Maybe being on the basketball team was a plus, too. Ichigo sighed inwardly as he wondered why he even bothered worrying whether girls would fall for him anymore. Kissing Grimmjow had its side effects.

"Like permanent brain damage." Ichigo muttered low under his breath.

Stark raised both eyebrows. "Did you say something?"

Feeling his face flame, Ichigo stammered. "Nah, nothing. Where'd you say you guys were eating again?"

"Rooftop, Block C. No one goes there." Stark winked.

Ichigo knew why. There were rumors about a girl committing suicide in the school's giant water tank situated on the rooftop above Block C, the building where most kids carried out laboratory experiments and group studies. It was also the library block.

"Not afraid of the rumors, are you?" Stark smiled at him, ruffling Ichigo's hair affectionately.

"Uh." Ichigo tried giving a nonchalant shrug, but his shoulders still hurt. "Ow."

Concerned gray eyes locked his in a firm gaze. "Still hurting from that other day, huh?"

"No, I got into another fight this morning." Ichigo mumbled, trying to pull away.

A thought hit him. Stark inviting him to lunch definitely had to be Grimmjow's idea. The time they'd spent together during Art class; Ichigo still wasn't ready to face that. He wasn't even ready to acknowledge how he felt about boys. He'd already agreed to join them, though. Ichigo worried about his lack of ability to say no when necessary.

Stark gave him a reassuring smile, making Ichigo wonder if his face really was too easy to read.

"Don't worry. We've got you covered, bro." A larger, more tanned hand gripped his right one in a firm handshake. "Let's head to lunch, okay?"

x

Keigo nudged Ishida, who was watching a short movie clip on Chad's phone. They were headed to the cafeteria, about to join the long lunch line. Grimmjow was swaggering out of the place, his usual friends tagging along behind him. It wasn't that surprising. What caught Keigo's attention was a certain orange haired teen in their midst, talking and laughing about something only the popular kids got to talk about.

"Weird and weirder." Keigo muttered.

Ishida gave him a one-shoulder shrug. "It's not that strange, really. If you read between the lines, you'll find out the actual truth in no time. Hardly hidden, to be honest."

"Please just speak simplified Japanese." Keigo pleaded.

Chad chuckled from somewhere behind them. "Jeagerjacques and Ichigo are going out."

Beside Chad, Tatsuki spat out a mouthful of honey green tea. "What?"

Ishida nodded and shuffled ahead of them in the line. "You should read the school papers more often."

x

"Would you please stop calling every girl you meet Miss Sexylegs?" Nnoitra shook his head at Yammy.

"Says the guy who calls his boyfriend Honeybunny." Yammy retorted before stuffing his mouth with a six-slice ham sandwich. "There's no saving you."

While Nnoitra spluttered and Szayel laughed along, Stark and Grimmjow flanked Ichigo, who fidgeted uncomfortably between the two members of the basketball team. The rooftop was fairly deserted and quiet, save for the low hum of the water tank in the locked shed and their laughter.

"Don't like your sandwich?" Grimmjow leaned over and placed a chilled can of passion fruit juice between Ichigo's bent knees. "Should've gotten you a peach bun."

"It's fine." Ichigo managed, nibbling on the edge of his sandwich.

Yeah, right. He wasn't even sure what he was eating. It could be ham, or it could be chicken floss, or even coconut egg jam. Just being next to Grimmjow was putting gauze over his senses.

"Everything okay?" Grimmjow asked, his voice low enough for Ichigo to hear. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay." Ichigo mumbled back, tearing off tiny bits of his sandwich bread. "Everything's cool."

"Sure about that?" Grimmjow pressed.

"Mmm."

He was aware of Grimmjow talking some more, and Stark joining in, but he wasn't sure what they were saying. Threads of worry and thoughts that burned their way through his head distracted his attention.

Grimmjow's hand on his cheek, tilting his face toward his brought Ichigo out of his semi-trance. "Can I kiss you?"

Ichigo felt his face flame as his fingers continued shredding what was left of his sandwich. "Um. It's probably not a good idea."

"No?" Grimmjow's blue eyes were twinkling, instead of looking disappointed. It was obvious he was just teasing. "But you told me I could."

Stark chuckled from beside Ichigo. "You guys need a room?"

"Don't worry, we won't break out the PG stuff so soon." Grimmjow leaned down to brush his lips over Ichigo's in a chaste, fleeting kiss. "Why are you so cute?"

"Who, me?" Stark shrugged. "Natural talent, I guess. Just like how I breeze through basketball."

"Like a pro?" Yammy laughed from where he leaned against the wall next to Szayel. "Or like a lump?"

"A professional lump." Nnoitra quipped, and duly dodged a flying wad of sandwich wrapper from Stark.

Ichigo felt his cheeks get warmer by the second. Grimmjow slung an arm around his shoulders, gently bringing him closer to his side. A gentle kiss to his temple made Ichigo's ears turn pink.

"D-Don't think I'm letting you get away with this." He told Grimmjow in a low voice.

"I'm not. But you're letting me hold you without a fuss, so I figure this much is okay." Grimmjow turned his brilliant, gorgeous gaze back to Ichigo. "I'm serious about this. About us."

Fighting down his blush, Ichigo felt like a shooting target. "Yeah, I'll give us a rate. A+ social value for you, total D- for me."

"Why worry about what other people think?" Grimmjow blinked down at Ichigo, looking truly confused.

It was like he had no idea about the endless teasing Ichigo knew was only a matter of time before it all erupted, like a furious volcano. Oh wait, Ichigo told himself. Of course Grimmjow wouldn't get it. He'd probably never been anything _but_ the center of attention – in a good way, obviously – in school. Ichigo heaved a sigh.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Grimmjow replied.

His tone was gentle, open, inviting. Ichigo wasn't about to fall into that trap again. He shook his head and ran a hand through his bright hair.

"No one's going to tease you. I'm not going to let them." Grimmjow said softly, carding his fingers through orange strands. "Since when did you become so pessimistic?"

"Since I got beaten up by Amagawa." Ichigo muttered, avoiding his blue-eyed gaze. "God, why does this feel so surreal?"

"It's probably cause you're just trying to imagine the unimaginable." A shoulder nudged Ichigo's right one, and there's a pained grunt from the orange haired teen.

"Fuck." Ichigo pushes away from Grimmjow, dreading the anticipated onslaught of questions. "Look, I'm just gonna go."

Hands grabbing both his wrists tow him back down, slowing his not-so-smooth getaway. Ichigo turns around and resists the strong urge to roll his eyes. Both Stark and Grimmjow are keeping a good hold on his lower arms, like he was a criminal about to escape.

In a way, Ichigo felt like one.

"You're hurt." Stark reminded him. "And by the looks of it, this morning, right?"

Ichigo tried not to show his surprise, though the chances his face was as close to a poker face were exactly the same as a laboratory rat had to the wiles of a mad scientist.

"These metaphors are killing me." Ichigo murmured, not even bothering to pull his arms away as Grimmjow gently slid his uniform shirt off his shoulders.

Blue eyes met his, and Grimmjow smiled knowingly. "You're not alone, there."

Stark snapped his fingers and broke their sort of trance-like staring. "Dudes. Can we get back to the task at hand? You."

Ichigo blinked at Stark's accusatory finger.

"Definitely need medical attention, from the looks of this." Stark ghosted his hand over a blooming bluish black bruise on Ichigo's back. He pointed to a reddish patch on Ichigo's right shoulder. "And this."

"All of this happened this morning?" Grimmjow looked dubious. "I'd say the bloomers on his back look a couple days old."

"They are." Ichigo admitted. He figured if Stark already knew about what had transpired in the morning, Grimmjow would, too. They weren't Captain of the Karakura Knights and center player for nothing.

"Amagawa is dead." Grimmjow pronounced with a serious finality in his tone. "And not in a good way."

Stark gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "I know, bro. But right now, we have to focus on the matters at hand. Like getting this little guy to the infirmary."

"I don't want to go to the infirmary." Ichigo was aware that his voice made him seem petulant, but he decided he didn't care. "The nurse is gonna shoot me a dozen different questions before you can say disaster."

"We'll take care of that." Grimmjow answered firmly. He sounded businesslike. "And then we'll take care of Amagawa."

"No." Ichigo reached out to cup Grimmjow's face in his smaller hands. "Don't. If I wanted you to, I would have asked. Respect that. I'll give him back what he deserves when I decide the time is right."

Stark let out a low whistle. "Your boyfriend's a tough one."

"He's not my boyfriend." Grimmjow said too quickly, then ducked his head. "Yet."

Ichigo swallowed a grin.

His heart gave a light jump for happiness. Grimmjow liked him enough to want to be with him. The least he could do was not bring Grimmjow into his problems. He would deal with Amagawa on his own. And maybe then, he'd be okay with the rest of the world.

Jesus, why is there so much bromance in here? Okay, I'm gonna be honest. I almost forgot about this story. And I have no idea where I'm going with it, but I sort of have a rough idea. Am I contradicting myself or what. Lol. Anyway, this chapter is a kind of filler for the fifth one. Next chapter's already finished, but I'm just gonna hold it back for a bit, check for errors and patch things up before I post . . .Right after I head out to get more beer. Yes, I love procrastinating.


End file.
